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BESSIE   AMONG   THE   MOUNTAINS. 


p 


BOOKS  BY  JOANNA   H.  MATHEWS. 

— ♦— — 

I.    THE  BESSIE  BOOKS.' 

C  vols.    In  a  box.    §7.50. 

II.    THE  PLOWESETS. 

A  SEEIES  OF  STOPwIES  OS.   THE  COMHAXDHEXTS. 

6  vols.    In  a  box.    §3.00. 

III.    LITTLE  SUEBEAMS. 

6  vols.    In  a  box.    §6.00. 

IV.    KITTY  AND  LULU  BOOKS. 

G  vols.    In  a  box.    §6  00. 

V.    MISS  ASHTOFS  GIELS. 

6  vols.    In  a  neat  box.    §7.50. 

VI.    HAPS  AND  MISHAPS. 

6  vols.    S7.50. 


BY  JULIA  A.  MATHEWS. 
I.    DARE  TO  DO  EIGHT  SEEIES. 

5  vols.    In  a  box.    §5.50. 

II.    DRAYTON  HALL  ST0EIES. 

Illustrative  of  the  Beatitudes.    G  vols.    In  a  box.    §4.50. 

III.    THE  GOLDEN  LADDES  SEEIES. 

Stories  illustrative  of  the  Lord's  Prayer.    6  vols.    §3.00. 

—4 

ROBERT   CARTER   AXD  BROTHERS, 

New  York. 


^v  J^-^gffi^QiMredji 


mp** 


Bessie  among. the  Mountains. 

FRONTISPIECE. 


BESSIE 


THE    MOUNTAINS 


BY 


JOANNA    IT.  MATHEWS, 

AUTHOR    07    u  BESSIE    AT    THE    SEASIDE,"    "BESSIE    IN    THE    CITT."     AKD 
'*  BESSIE   AND   HEK  FRIENDS." 


Be  not  OTercome  of  evil,  but  overcome  evil  ivitb.  good.' 


NEW     YORK: 

ROBERT   CARTER  AND   BROTHERS, 
630,  Broadway. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  18S9,  by 

ROBERT  CARTER  AND  BROTHERS, 

Tn  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


CAMBRIDGE  : 
PRESS   OF   JOHN   WILSON    AND   SOH. 


TO 


RICHARD    HOWLAND    HUNT, 

fclje  gear  f  iiile  gog, 

WHO  "nearly  knows  how  to  bead,  and  thinks  cousin 
josie's  stories  have  not  a  bit  of  stupidness 

IN    THKM." 


Library.  Univ.  ©f 
Nor-,  Carolina 

CONTENTS. 


Chapter  Page. 

I.     Up  the  Mountain 9 

II.  The  Squirrels  and  the  Ice  Glen  ...     33 

III.  A  Visit  to  Aunt  Patty 55 

IV.  Lem  and  Dolly ....     74 

V.     The  Gardens \ 98 

VI.    The  Sunday  School 113 

VII.     The  Silver  Cup 128 

VIII.    A  Kind  Word  for  Lem 147 

IX.    Dol's  Revenge 163 

X.     The  Bananas 183 

XL     "Good  for  Evil" 203 

XII.     Uncle  Ruthven's  Work 220 

XIII.  A  Ride  on  the  Sheaves 236 

XIV.  Blackberrying 255 

XV.    A  Friend  in  Need 276 

XVI.    Lem's  Sorroav 299 

XVII.    Dolly  Goes  Home 317 

XVIII.     Good-by  to  Chalecoo 336 


BESSIE  AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS. 


^C 


UP  THE  MOUNTAIN. 

P,  up!  What  a  height  it  was,  and 
how  the  horses  toiled  as  they  drew 
the  heavy  wagons  up  the  mountain 
side.  Whenever  they  came  to  a  very  steep 
place,  the  boys  and  all  the  gentlemen,  except 
Colonel  Rush,  would  jump  out  and  walk,  so 
as  to  lighten  the  load.  Aunt  Annie  and  Aunt 
Bessie,  who  was  really  Aunt  Bessie  now,  for 
she  was  Uncle  Ruthven's  wife,  also  tried  this  ; 
but  they  soon  tired,  and  were  glad  to  take 
their  seats  in  the  wagon  again. 

Maggie  thought  she  must  take  her  turn  too, 
and  asked  papa  to  lift  her  out.  Papa  con- 
sented, warning  her,  however,  that  she  would 


^ 


io  Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 


& 


find  it  harder  work  than  she  imagined  to 
clamber  up  these  steep  ascents'  on  her  own  two- 
small  feet.  But  Maggie  thought  she  would 
like  to  be  "  a  relief  to  the  "horses,"  so  papa 
took  her  out. 

Then  Bessie's  sweet  little 'voice  piped  up 
from  the  snug  corner,  where  she  sat  nestled 
between  Colonel  Rush  and  his  wife. 

"  Mamma,  bettn't  I  walk  a  little  too,  on 
'count  of  the  poor  horses  ?  " 

At  which  Mr.  Porter  who  walked  beside  the 
wagon,  holding  the  reins,  and  now  and  then 
chirruping  to  the  'willing  creatures  who 
needed  no  whip  or  harsh  'command,  turned 
his  head  towards  the  tiny  figure  with  a  merry 
twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"  I  think  not,  darling,"  said  mamma  ;  "  by 
the  time  we  are  at  the  Lake  House  you  will 
be  more  than  tired  enough  with  this  long 
day's  journey." 

"I  do  not  wish  to  walk,  mamma,"  said 
Bessie,  "  only  for  the  horses." 

"  The  horses  don't  make  much  account  of 


l/p  the  Mountain.  n 

your  weight,  I  reckon,"  said  Mr.  Porter,  good 
naturedly,  "  and  though  this  seems  mighty 
hard  work  to  you,  they  are  used  to'  it,  and 
don't  mind  it  so  much.  Besides,  they  know 
that  every  pitch  takes  them  nearer  to  their 
stable,  where  they'll  have  a  good  rest  and  a 
feed  of  oats.  They'd  rather  go  up  than  down 
any  day." 

u  How  do  they  know  it  ?  "  asked  Bessie,  who 
had  already  made  friends  with  Mr.  Porter. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Porter,  taking  off  his  hat 
and  fanning  himself  with  it,  "I  can't  just  say 
how ;  certain  it  is  they  do  know  it." 

"  Maybe  it's  their  instinct,"  said  Bessie. 

"  That's  about  it,"  he  answered,  with  a 
smile. 

"  These  are  fine  teams  of  yours,  Mr. 
Porter,*   said  Colonel  Rush. 

"  You  may  say  that,  sir,"  answered  the 
old  man,  looking  with  pride  at  the  noble 
beasts,  "  and  this  is  the  best  of  the  lot. 
These  are  Vermont  horses,  sure:footed  as 
goats,  as  they  need  to  be  on  these  mountain 


12  Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

roads ;  .strong  as  elephants,  and  wiser  than 
many  a  creature  that  goes  on  two  feet.  Why, 
I  could  tell  you  stories  of  this  fellow,"  and  ho 
nodded  towards  the  horse  nearest  him,  "  that 
maybe  you'll  find  it  hard  to  believe.  I  named 
him  *  Solomon,'  thinking  it  suitable ;  but  the 
boys  they  shortened  it  to  '  Sol,'  and  that's 
what  he  goes  by.  I  tell  you,  he  knows  a 
thing  or  two,  that  horse. " 

Mr.  Porter  paused  for  breath,  and  Bessie, 
after  waiting  a  moment  or  two  in  hopes  of  the 
stories  of  old  Sol,  said,  — 

"  We'll  believe  you,  Mr.  Porter,  if  you  tell 
us  those  stories." 

"  So  I  will,"  he  answered,  "  but  not  now. 

c  takes  the  breath  out  of  a  man  trudging  up 

these  hills,  and  I  can't  tell  you  long  stories 

now.     But  you  come  into  the   kitchen   some 

evening,%and  I'll  tell  you  a  bushel  full." 

Maggie  had  found  that  "  trudging  up  the 
hills  "  took  the  breath  out  of  a  little  girl,  and 
papa's  words  soon  proved  themselves  true ; 
out  she  plodded  along  perse veringly,  flushed 


Uf  the  Mountain.  13 

and  panting,  holding  to  papa's  hand,  •  and 
happy  in  her  belief  that  she  was  sparing  the 
horses  by  her  own  exertions. 

And  now  they  came  to  a  level  spot  where 
all  might  rest.     A  beautiful  resting  place  it 
was,  a   perfect   bower  of  the   wild   clematis, 
rock  ivy  and  briar  rose,  the  latter  now  in  full 
flower.     The  long,  slender  sprays  flung  them 
selves  from  tree  to  tree,  or  ran  climbing  over 
the   rocks,  while  the   delicate   pink   blossoms 
hung,  many   of   them,  within   the   children's 
reach.      Uncle    Ruthven's   warning    checked 
Maggie's  too  eager  fingers  until  he  could  cut 
them  carefully  with  his  knife,  and  place  them 
in   her   hands   stripped   of  their   sharp   little 
thorns.     Maggie  thanked  him  for  his  thought- 
ful  kindness  when   she   saw   the   misfortune 
which   had   happened  to  Hafed  ;   for  the  lit- 
tle   Persian,   always    anxious    to    please    his 
"  Missys,"   had    grasped    too    heedlessly   the 
tempting    branches,    and   was   now   wringing 
his  fingers   as   he  danced  about,  half  laugh 
ing,  half  crying,  and  saying,  — 


I4  Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

"  Prettys  no  good,  no  good." 
Maggie  and  Bessie  were  quite  distressed  for 
him,  until  his  master,  having  taken   out  the 
thorns,  hade  him  wash  his  bleeding  fingers  in 
the  brook  which  ran  by  the  roadside.     Bessie 
had  been    taken    from   the   wagon    that    she 
might  rest  herself  by  running  about  a  little 
after  her  long  ride,  and  now  she  and  Maggie, 
as  well  as  Hafed,  forgot  pricks  and  scratches 
in  the  pleasure  of  watching  the  brook,  and 
feeling  its  cool,  clear  waters  trickle  through 
their  fingers.      What  a  noisy,  merry,  frolick- 
some  stream  this  was,  gurgling  and  splashing, 
rushing  and  tumbling  in  its  rocky  bed ;  now 
leaping    gracefully  in   a   miniature   waterfall 
over   some   narrow  ledge,   now   rippling   and 
singing  about  the  roots  of  the  trees  and  over 
the°pebbles  that  lay  in  its  course,  now  flashing 
in  the  sunlight,  and  now  hiding  in  a  crevice 
of  the  rocks  as  if  it  were  playing  at  Bopeep. 

"  What  a  fuss  it  makes  about  nothing," 
said  Harry,  as  he  dippecT  his  fingers  into  the 
water,  and  carried  some  of  the  clear,  sparkling 


Uf  the  Mountain.  15 

drops  to  his  lips,  "  One  would  think  it  was 
doing  a  wonderful  lot  of  work." 

"  So  it  does,"  said  Maggie,  following  her 
brother's  example. 

"  What  work  does  it  do  ?  "  asked  Harry, 
always  ready  to  listen  to  any  of  Maggie's  new 
ideas. 

"  Sometimes  it  gives  a  thirsty  boy  a  drink, 
and  he  is  very  ungrateful,  and  says  it  makes  a 
fuss  about  nothing,"  said  Maggie,  mischiev- 
ously. 

Harry  playfully  sprinkled  her  with  the 
drops  which  hung  from  his  fingers.  "  And 
what  else  ?  " 

"  It  waters  the  flowers  and  mosses  and 
trees,"  said  Maggie ;  "  and  the  birds  and 
squirrels  can  come  and  take  a  drink  too,  if 
they  like." 

"  And  it  makes  a  pretty  waterfall  for  us  to 
see,  and  a  nice,  pleasant  noise  for  us  to  listen 
to,"  said  Bessie. 

"  All  that  is  no  better  than  play,"  said 
H^rry. 


16         Bessie  a?nong  the  Mountains. 

"  And  it  helps  to  make  the  sea,"  said  Bes- 
sie.    "  Mamma  said  so." 

"  Ho !  "  said  Fred  ;  "  much  this  little  brook 
does  towards  filling  the  sea,  Queen  Bess." 
"  But  it  helps,  and  does  all  it  can,  Fred." 
"Yes,"   said   Maggie;    "one    little   brook 
runs  on  until  it  finds  another  little  brook,  and 
then  they  join,  and  run  on  together,  and  then 
they  meet  another  and  another  till  they  all 
make  a  small  river,  and  that  joins  other  little 
rivers  and  brooks,  till  there  is  a  very  large 
one  like  that  we  sailed  on  this  morning,  and 
that  runs  into  the  great,  great  sea  that  we 
used  to  see  at  Quam  Beach  last  summer." 

"Hallo,  Midge!"  said  Fred;  "where  did 
you  find  out  so  much  ?  " 

"  It's  not  my  own  finding  out,"  said  Mag- 
gie ;  "  the  other  day  my  geography  lesson  was 
about  rivers,  and  mamma  told  me  all  that, 
and  Bessie  heard  too ;  so  when  we  first  saw 
this  brook  farther  down  the  mountain,  we  re- 
membered what  mamma  said,  and  Aunt  May 
said  a  very  nice  thing." 


U^p  the  Mountain,  17 

"  What  was  it  ?  "  asked  Ilarry. 

"She  said  little  children  might  be  like  tho 
brooks  and  springs.  Not  one  conll  do  a 
great  deal  by  himself,  but  every  little  helped 
in  the  work  God  gave  his  creatures  to  do  for 
liittj,  just  as  every  brook  helped  to  fill  the 
great  sea  to  which  it  ran  ;  and  if  we  were 
good  and  sweet,  it  made  everything  bright  and 
pleasant  about  us,  just  like  a  clear  and  run- 
ning stream.  But  cross  and  naughty  chil- 
dren were  like  the  muddy  brooks  and  dull 
pools,  which  no  one  could  drink,  or  make  of 
any  use.  I  hope  I  wont  be  like  an  ugly, 
muddy  pool  that  does  no  good  to  any  one,  but 
just  stands  still,  and  looks  disagreeable  all  tho 
day  long,  and  has  toads  and  things  in  it." 

The  boys  laughed  at  the  ending  of  Maggie's 
speech,  so  like  herself,  and  Uncle  Ruthvcn  as 
be  dipped  a  drinking  cup  into  the  flashing 
stream,  said, — 

"  I  do  not  think  we  need  fear  that,  littlo 
Maggie.,, 

"  No,"  said  Harry ;  "  there  is  rather  too 
2 


18  Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

much  sunshine  and  sparkle  about  Maggie  to 
think  that  she  "would  become  a  stagnant  pool, 
full  of  ugly  tempers  and  hateful  faults,  like 
i  toads  and  things.'  " 

u  Yes,"  laughed  Fred,  "  and  she  could  not 
stand  still  with  nothing  to  do ;  could  ^ou, 
Midget  Fidget?" 

Maggie  was  in  too  sunny  a  humor  to  be 
teased  by  anything  Fred  could  say,  though 
she  did  not  like  the  name  he  called  her,  and 
she  answered  with  good  temper,  — 

"  No,  indeed,  I  could  not,  Fred  ;  but  if  I  am 
naughty  I  suppose  I  do  not  run  just  the  way 
I  ought  to,  and  perhaps  I  grow  a  little  muddy 
sometimes." 

"  It  don't  last  long  then,  I'll  say  that  for 
you,"  answered  Fred,  touched  by  his  little 
sister's  sweet-tempered  honesty. 

"  No,  it  does  not,"  said  Bessie,  who  had 
been  listening  to  the  last  few  sentences  with  a 
sober  face,  "  and  my  own  little  brook  Maggie 
is  the  best  and  brightest  brook  of  all  the  fam- 
ily.    No,  thank  you,  Uncle  Ruthven,"  as  her 


Up    the  Mountain.  19 

uncle  oiFercd  her  a  drink  from  his  cup ;  "  the 
water  tastes  better  this  way ;  "  and  she  dipped 
her  tiny  hand  again  in  the  stream. 

"  But  it  would  take  you  till  sundown  to  sat- 
isfy your  thirst  out  of  that  make-believe  hand, 
Princess,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  "  and  Mr.  Porter 
is  ready  for  a  fresh  start." 

So  Bessie  took  a  drink  from  her  uncle's 
cup,  and  the  other  children  were  glad  to  do 
the  same,  since  they  were  now  forced  to  leave 
this  pleasant  spot. 

Mamma  said  she  thought  Maggie  had 
walked  far  enough,  so  she  once  more  took 
her  seat  in  the  wagon,  and  as  Mr.  Porter  said 
they  had  passed  the  steepest  part  of  the  as- 
cent, the  gentlemen  and  boys  all  did  the 
same.  The  scene  did  not  grow  less  beautiful 
as  they  went  on  upward.  They  could  see  to 
a  great  distance,  and  the  view  was  very  lovely. 
Behind  and  below  them  lay  hills  and  forests, 
with  here  and  there  a  break  or  clearing  where 
some  cozy  home  farm  nestled,  with  the  smoke 
from  its  chimney  curling  lazily   up  into  the 


2Q  Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

quiet  summer  air.  Still  farther  down,  the 
valleys  with  their  glistening  ponds  and 
streams,  and  the  villages  clustering  here 
and  there,  their  houses  and  churches  look- 
ing from  this  height  almost  as  small  as  toys ; 
while  far  in  the  distance,  flashing  in  the  sun- 
light, rolled  the  noble  river  up  whose  waters 
they  had  come  that  morning. 

Around  them  and  above  them  lay  great 
swells  of  land,  over  which  they  had  yet  to 
pass,  rising  one  above  another  till  they  were 
crowned  with  the  lofty  summit  of  the  moun- 
tain. Here  stood  out  sharply  against  the 
sky  a  gray,  bare  mass  of  rock,  with  a  tuft  of 
pine-trees  growing  on  the  very  top.  By  some 
people  this  was  called  "The  Point,"  by  others, 
"  The  Chiefs  Head,"  because  they  fancied  it 
looked  like  an  Indian's  head  wearing  a  plume 
of  feathers.  It  could  be  seen  for  many  miles, 
and  long  before  our  party  began  to  ascend  the 
mountain,  Mr.  Bradford  had  pointed  it  out  to 
the  children.  The  boys  at  once  imagined 
they  saw  the  Indian's  head  plainly.     Maggie 


Uj>  the  Mountain,  21 

sometimes  thought  she  did,  sometimes  thought 
she  did  not,  and  was  very  eager  about  it;  but 
now  as  the  road  took  a  sudden  bend,  bringing 
the  great  rock  into  nearer  view,  she  declared 
the  likeness  was  to  be  seen  distinctly,  nose, 
mouth,  chin  and  all. 

Bessie  could  not  see  any  resemblance,  and 
since  Maggie  could,  was  rather  distressed ; 
but  mamma  and  the  Colonel  consoled  her  by 
saying  that  they,  like  herself,  could  see  noth- 
ing but  a  huge,  gray  stone,  crowned  by  a  few 
lonely-looking  trees. 

"  There's  more  fancy  than  anything  else 
about  it,  I  believe  myself,"  said  Mr.  Porter  ; 
u  if  it  was  not  for  the  old  story  probably  no  one 
would  see  any  resemblance." 

"  What  story  ?  "  asked  Harry,  eagerly. 

"  Why,"  answered  Mr.  Porter,  "  it  is  said 
that  a  tribe  of  Indians  once  lived  among  these 
valleys  and  mountains,  whose  chief  died.  He 
left  twin  sons,  both  famous  warriors,  and  it 
was  doubtful  which  would  be  chosen  by  the 
tribe  to  be  their  chief  or  king  in  the  father's 


22         Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

place.  One  of  the  brothers  was  very  anxious 
for  this  honor.  He  was  a  proud  and  selfish 
man,  who  seemed  to  care  for  no  one  in  the 
world  but  his  beautiful  young  wife,  whom  he 
dearly  loved.  His  brother  was  more  of  a  fa- 
vorite with  the  people,  and  he  feared  that 
their  choice  would  fall  upon  him,  so  he  deter- 
mined to  kill  him  that  he  might  be  out  of  his 
way. 

"  The  brother  was  fond  of  climbing  to  the 
mountain  top,  and  sitting  there  to  look  out 
over  the  broad  lands  which  had  belonged  to  his 
fathers  for  so  many  years.  One  night  when 
the  wicked  chief  was  returning  from  the  hunt, 
he  saw,  as  he  thought,  in  the  dim  moonlight, 
his  brother  sitting  in  his  usual  place.  This 
was  very  near  the  edge  of  the  rock,  where  a 
slight  push  might  throw  him  over,  and  it 
came  into  the  bad  man's  heart  to  climb  up 
softly  behind  him,  and,  with  a  sudden  shove, 
to  send  him  down  upon  the  rocks  below.  He 
gave  himself  no  time  to  think,  and  in  a  few 
moments  he   had   reached   the   quiet   figure 


Up  the  Mountain.  23 

which  was  half  concealed  by  a  clump  of  trees, 
and,  with  a  push  of  his  powerful  hand,  sent  it 
whirling  over  into  the  valley  below." 

"  Oh,  the  bad,  bad  man !  "  said  Bessie. 
"  He  was  just  like  a  Cain,  and  his  poor 
brother  who  never  did  him  any  harm !  I 
think  that  is  a  bad  story." 

"  Probably  it's  not  true,  but  just  a  fable," 
said  Mr.  Porter. 

"  Then  they  oughtn't  to  say  it  about  the 
poor  Indian,"  said  Bessie,  indignantly.  "  If 
he  didn't  do  it,  they  ought  not  to  make  it  up 
about  him." 

"  And  likely  enough  the  man  himself  never 
lived,"  said  Mr.  Porter. 

"  Then  they  oughtn't  to  say  he  did,"  per- 
sisted Bessie  ;  "  And  to  make  him  so  wicked 
too.  There's  enough  of  bad  people  without 
making  up  any  more." 

"  Well,  what  was  the  end  of  it  ?  "  asked 
Fred. 

"  Just  as  the  poor  lost  one  went  over  the 
edge,  a  scream  rang  out  on  the  night  air,  and 


24        Bessie  among    the  Mountains. 

the  Indian  knew  it  was  the  voice  of  his  be- 
loved wife  whom  he  had  thus  sent  to  her 
death.  The  story  goes  on  to  say  that  he  was 
so  stricken  with  horror  and  grief  when  lie 
found  what  he  had  done,  that  he  wished  the 
earth  might  open  and  swallow  him,  which  it 
did,  all  but  his  head,  which  was  turned  into 
stone,  and  so  has  remained  to  speak  of  the 
punishment  of  his  wicked  deed." 

"  That  tribe  of  Indians  must  have  been  gi- 
ants then,"  said  Harry,  laughing  as  he  looked 
up  at  the  enormous  mass  of  stone. 

"  Now  I  know  that  story  never  was,"  said 
Bessie.  "  People  don't  be  turned  into  stone 
because  they  are  bad,  and  nobody  ever  had 
such  a  big  head,  and  people  ought  not  to  say 
it." 

Bessie  had  heard  many  a  fairy  tale,  many  a 
fable,  and  had  never  objected  to  them,  though 
she  always  preferred  to  listen  to  stories  which 
were,  or  might  be,  true  ;  but  somehow,  no 
one  could  tell  why,  this  fancy  about  the  rock 
-eemed  to  shock  her  sense  of  truth,  and  from 


Uj>  the  Mountain.  25 

this  time  she  could  never  be  persuaded  to  call 
it  the  "  Chiefs  Read."  Her  mother  also  no- 
ticed that  when  she  was  out  of  doors,  she  al- 
ways sat  or  stood  with  her  back  towards  it  if 
she  could  possibly  do  so. 

But  they  were  by  no  means  to  mount  so  far 
as  this  before  they  came  to  their  resting-place. 
Chalecoo  Lake  lay  a  good  way  below  the 
"  Point,''  nestled  in  a  beautiful  basin  among 
the  hills,  and  here  the  road  ended.  Those 
who  wished  to  go  higher  must  do  so  by  a 
rough  mountain  path  which  led  to  the  very 
summit. 

The  children  were  delighted  to  see  what  a 
quantity  of  birds  and  squirrels  there  appeared 
to  be  in  the  woods.  The  former  were  hopping 
about  all  over  the  trees,  singing  among  the 
branches,  and  seeming  scarcely  disturbed  by 
the  approach  of  the  wagons. 

As  for  the  squirrels,  they  were  as  saucy 
as  possible,  waiting  and  watching  with  their 
sharp,  bright  eyes  till  the  travellers  were  close 
upon  them,  then  gliding  ahead  to  a  short  dis- 


26         Bessie  among  the  Mountains 


<b 


tance  and  looking  back,  or  perhaps  leaping 
from  one  to  another  of  the  old  fallen  trunks 
which  lay  by  the  roadside  almost  within  arm's 
length. 

Once  as  the  party,  who  were  all  growing 
somewhat  tired,  were  rather  quiet,  they  sud- 
denly heard  a  long,  loud  chirrup  ;  and  look- 
ing round  to  the  side  whence  the  noise  came, 
there,  upon  a  heap  of  stones,  sat  a  large  gray 
squirrel,  with  his  tail  curled  gracefully  over 
his  back  like  a  plume,  and  seeming  to  call 
attention  to  himself  by  his  song.  Not  in  the 
least  alarmed  by  the  eager  delight  of  the  chil 
dren,  or  the  whistling  and  shouts  of  the  boys, 
he  sat  still  till  all  the  wagons  had  passed, 
when  he  darted  ahead  of  the  foremost  one, 
and  seating  himself  this  time  on  an  old  rail 
fence,  began  his  pretty  call  again,  and  took  a 
second  close  look  at  our  friends.  This  he  did 
five  or  six  times  in  succession,  to  the  great 
amusement  and  satisfaction  of  the  little  ones, 
who  were  beginning  to  hope  he  would  go  with 
them  all  the  way  to  the  house,  when  with   a 


Up  the  Mountain.  27 

pert,  defiant  whisk  of  his  bushy  tail,  he  leaped 
down  the  bank,  and  was  lost  to  sight  in  the 
thick  trees  of  the  ravine. 

At  another  time  a  rabbit  ran  across  the 
road,  but  he  was  by  no  means  so  sociable  as 
Bunny,  and  scampered  away  as  if  his  life  de- 
pended on  hiding  himself  among  the  bushes 
as  fast  as  possible. 

"  You  wait  till  to-morrow  morning,"  said 
Mr.  Porter,  as  Bessie  said  how  sorry  she  was 
that  the  squirrel  had  not  kept  on  with  them  ; 
44  You  wait  till  to-morrow  morning  and  you'll 
see  squirrels  enough  for  the  asking.  Tame  as 
your  little  dog  there,  they  are  too." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Porter  !  "  said  Bessie,  "  do  you 
shut  the  poor  little  squirrels  up  in  a  cage  ?  " 

"  Not  I,"  answered  Mr.  Porter.  "  I  would 
not  allow  it  on  any  account,  and  never  did. 
You'll  see  how  my  boy  Bob  manages  them.'' 

And  now  they  came  to  the  lake  itself. 
What  a  wild,  curious  place  it  was,  such  as 
none  of  the  children  had  ever  seen,  not  even 
Harry,  who   was  ,  considered    by  his   brothers 


28  Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

and  sisters  quite  a  travelled  young  gentle 
man,  because  he  had  at  one  time  gone  with 
his  father  to  Washington,  and  at  another  to 
Niagara. 

Great  masses  and  blocks  of  granite  lay  piled 
one  above  another  round  three  sides  of  the 
lake,  here  and  there  poised  in  such  a  manner 
that  man)7  of  them  looked  as  if  the  slightest 
touch  must  send  them  headlong  into  the 
waters  below.  And  yet  thus  they  had  re- 
mained for  hundreds,  perhaps  thousands  of 
years,  held  firmly  by  the  Almighty  Hand 
which  had  given  to  each  its  place.  Mosses 
and  lichens,  of  all  shades  of  gray,  green  and 
brown,  covered  their  weather-beaten  sides, 
while  their  tops  were  crowned  with  oaks, 
maples,  pines  and  firs. 

Around  the  southern  side,  and  close  to  the 
mountain,  which  here  rose  still  farther  up,  up, 
steep  and  rugged,  to  the  Point,  or  Indian's 
Head,  wound  the  road ;  and  a  dangerous  road 
it  looked,  with  the  deep  waters  of  the  lake  on 
one  side,  the  rough  mountain  on  the  other 


LPp  the  Mountain,  29 

where  the  huge  boulders  overhung  the  trav- 
ellers as  they  passed  on.  But  with  sure- 
footed, steady  horses,  and  a  careful  driver, 
Mr.  Bradford  said  there  was  no  danger,  for 
the  road  was  good  and  strong,  "  built  upon  a 
rock,"  and  kept  in  capital  order  by  Mr.  Porter 
and  his  industrious  sons.  Still,  more  than  one 
of  the  ladies  drew  a  breath  of  relief  when  it 
was  safely  passed. 

Away  at  the  eastern  end,  where  there  was 
a  break  in  the  rock,  and  a  little  back  from  the 
lake,  stood  Mr.  Porter's  house,  a  long,  low, 
pleasant-looking  building,  painted  white,  with 
green  blinds,  wide  piazzas,  and  magnificent 
shade  trees.  Garden,  orchard  and  fields  lay 
behind  on  the  slope  of  the  hill  where  it  fell 
gently  away  to  the  valley  below,  and  the 
whole  place  told  of  order  and  industry,  show- 
ing in  beautiful  contrast  to  the  wild  grandeur 
of  the  other  sides  of  the  lake. 

So  here  Maggie  and  Bessie  were  at  last,  at 
the  long-talkcd-of  Chalccoo  Lake  ;  and  glad 
enough  they,  as  well  as  the  rest  of  the  party, 


30         Bessie  among  the  Mountains^ 

were  to  bo  at  their  journey's  end,  pleasant 
though  it  had  been.  Ten  hours  of  steady 
travelling  was  tiresome  work  for  little  people. 

In  the  wide-open  doorway  stood  Mrs. 
Porter,  waiting  to   welcome  th^m. 

"  What  a  jolly-looking  eld  lady ! "  ex- 
claimed Fred.  "  I  shall  like  her,  I  know. 
She  looks  as  if  she  belonged  to  this  dear  old 
place." 

"  That's  so,"  said  Mr.  Porter,  putting  his 
head  on  one  side,  and  gazing  admiringly  at 
his  wife  ;  "  She's  as  jolly  as  she  looks,  and  as 
good  as  she's  jolly.  My  !  but  she'll  spoil  your 
children,  Mrs.  Bradford.'* 

Mrs.  Bradford  smiled,  and  did  not  look  as 
if  she  thought  the  "  spoiling  "  would  hurt  her 
children  very  much  ;  and  now,  with  a  loud 
"  whoa,"  Mr.  Porter  drew  in  his  horses,  and 
his  wife  with  her  two  daughters  came  down 
to  help  unload. 

"  You  see  I  have  brought  you  a  largo 
family,  Mrs.  Porter,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford, 
"  but  you  have  room  for  all,  I  believe?" 


Up  the  Mountain.  31 

"  Yes,  and  heart  room  too,"  was  the  an- 
swer, as  the  old  lady  took  baby  from  her 
nurse,  and  covered  her  with  kisses.  Miss 
Baby  looked  for  a  moment  as  if  she  had  half 
a  mind  to  resent  this  liberty,  but  thought 
better  of  it,  and  presently  was  crowing  and 
smiling  in  the  kind  old  face,  which  looked 
so  pleasantly  at  her.  Indeed,  not  one  of  the 
children  could  resist  the  cheery,  coaxing  voice 
and  tender  manner  ;  and  in  five  minutes  they 
were  all  crowding  about  her,  as  she  told  of 
all  the  treats  she  had  in  store  for  them ;  and 
even  shy  Maggie  had  summoned  up  courage 
to  ask  a  question  which  had  long  been  troub- 
ling her. 

"  Mrs.  Porter,"  she  whispered,  pulling  the 
old  lady's  head  down  towards  her,  "  may  I 
ask  you  a  secret  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,  my  lamb,  a  dozen  if  you  like," 
answered  Mrs.  Porter. 

u  Do  you  have  trundle  beds  ?  "  whispered 
Maggie  again. 

"  Trundle  beds  ?     Well,  I  believe  there  is 


32        Bessie    among  the  Mountains. 

an  old  one  up  garret,"  said  Mrs.  Porter,  "  but 
I'll  have  it  down  for  you,  and  put  to  rights  if 
you  like.'* 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  said  Maggie,  "  please  don't.  I 
do  hate  them  so,  and  I  had  to  sleep  in  one  all 
last  summer  at  Quam." 

"  Oh !  that's  it,"  said  Mrs.  Porter,  "  well, 
you  shall  sleep  in  no  trundle  bed  here,  since 
you  4on't  like  it.  Come  along  up-stairs,  and 
you  shall  see  what  nice  little  cottage  beds  we 
have  for  you  young  ones." 

So  this  trouble  was  at  an  end,  and  Maggie 
felt  quite  free  to  enjoy  all  the  new  pleasures 
about  her,  without  fear  of  the  dreaded  trun- 
dle bed. 


II. 


THE  SQUIRRELS  AND  THE  ICE  GLEN. 


AGGIE  would  have  liked  \ovy  well  to 
run  about  a  little  on  that  first  even 
ing  of  their  arrival  at  Chalecoo ;  but 
Bessie  was  so  tired   that   her  mother   wished 
her  to  keep  quiet ;  and  as  Maggie  would  not 
go  out  without  her  sister,  they  both  contented 
themselves  with  making  acquaintance  with  the 
house   and   the   people   who    belonged   there. 
And  a   delightful    house    it   was  to  make  ac- 
quaintance with, —  full    of  all   kinds  of  odd 
nooks    and  corners,  with    two  or   three   steps 
here  leading  up   to   one    room,  two  or   three 
there   going   down    to    another;     queer   little 
pantries  and  cupboards  and  crooked  passages, 
and    altogether   unlike    any  other   house    the 
children  had  ever  seen.     Through  the  centre 
3 


34         Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

was  a  wide,  cool  hall  with  a  green  blind  door 
at  either  end,  a  capital  place  for  a  play-room 
on  a  rainy  day ;  and  around  three  sides  ran 
a  broad  piazza,  well  shaded  with  vines  and 
the  noble  old  trees  among  which  the  house 
stood. 

From  the  front,  one  looked  out  upon  the 
lake  and  rocks ;  from  the  back,  far  away  over 
bill  and  valley,  mountain  and  river.  Green 
fields  and  meadows  lay  below,  with  here  and 
there  an  orchard  or  a  lovely  piece  of  woods. 
Then  the  rooms  were  so  large  and  pleasant, 
with  so  many  doors  and  windows  that  not  a 
breath  of  air  could  stir  but  a  breeze  must 
sweep  through  them,  while  nothing  could  be 
more  neat,  clean  and  fresh.  Not  a  speck  or 
spot  was  to  be  seen  anywhere,  not  a  thing  was 
out  of  place,  and  Bessie  looking  gravely  about 
her  as  she  noticed  these  signs  of  care,  said 
anxiously  to  Mrs.  Porter, 

"  Are  you  very  particular  about  your  nice 
house,  ma'am? " 

64  Well,  yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Porter,  looking 


rhe  Squirrels  and  the  Ice   Glen,     35 

".round  with  an  air  of  some  pride  and  satis- 
faction, "  don't  it  suit  you  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  yes,  ma'am,"  said  Bessie,  "  it  suits  me 
very  much,  but  you  know  sometimes  children 
make  a  little  disorder  when  they  play,  and  I 
only  meant  would  you  mind  if  we  mussed  up 
your  nice  house  just  a  very  little  bit  ?  " 

"  Not  I,"  said  Mrs.  Porter,  "  there's  plenty 
of  hands  to  set  to  rights  any  disorder  you 
may  make.  Just  you  play  away  and  don't 
trouble  your  head  about  that." 

The  measure  of  Maggie's  content  was  full 
when  she  followed  the  old  lady  up  stairs  and 
saw  the  two  neat,  small,  white  beds  intended 
for  Bessie  and  herself. 

"  Bessie,"  she  said,  a  little  later,  "  don't 
you  think  this  place  is  nicer  than  Quam 
Beach  ?  " 

They  were  standing  together  in  the  lower 
Hall,  looking  out  upon  the  lake,  while  the  rays 
of  the  sotting  sun  came  flickering  through 
the  vine  leaves,  and  dancing  over  the  two  lit- 
tle figures  standing  in  the   doorway,  as  if  it 


36        Bessie  among-  the  Mountains. 

were  bidding  them  a  friendly  good  night,  and 
giving  them  a  promise  of  a  fair  day  for  to- 
morrow's rambles. 

"  I  think  it  is  very  nice,"  answered  Bessie. 

"  But  don't  you  think  it  nicer  than  Quam, 
Bessie  ?  " 

"  No,  Maggie,  for  the  sea  is  not  here." 

"  But  the  lake  is,"  said  Maggie. 

"  But  the  lake  is  not  the  sea,"  said  Bessie. 

Maggie  could  not  contradict  this,  but  she 
dj-i  not  feel  satisfied  that  Bessie  should  not  be 
:Vj  well  pleased  as  she  was  herself,  and  she  said 
wistfully,  — 

"  But  don't  you  think  youcould-be  a  little 
contented  here,  Bessie?  " 

"  I  can  be  much  contented  here,  Maggie," 
answered  the  little  girl.  "  Why,  dear,  do 
you  think  I  would  be  so  ungrateful  of  this 
very  nice  place,  and  the  kind  people  that  are 
hero  as  not  to  be  contented  ?  Oh  !  I  like 
the  mountains  very  much,  but  not  quite  so 
very  much  as  the  sea." 

"Oh,  ho!"  said   Mr.   Porter,  who  had  just 


The  Squirrels  and  the  Ice   Glen. 


37 


come  up  behind  them  and  heard  what  Bessie 
had  said  last,  "  so  you  do  not  like  the  moun- 
tains as  well  as  the  sea  ?  Well,  I  shall  make 
you  change  that  tune.  Why,  you  don't  know 
all  the  things  there  are  to  see  here.  Before 
you've  been  here  a  week  you'll  tell  me  you  like 
the  mountains  a  heap  better  than  the  ocean." 

But  Mr.  Porter  was  mistaken.  He  never 
heard  Bessie  say  that.  She  spent  a  very  hap- 
py summer,  and  was  well  satisfied  with  all  the 
new  pleasures  she  found  among  the  mountains, 
but  they  never  could  make  her  forget  her 
beloved  sea,  nor  could  the  old  gentleman  per- 
suade her  to  acknowledge  that  she  liked  the 
one  as  well  as  the  other. 

Bessie  might  well  say  they  were  nice  people 
in  this  house.  Besides  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Porter, 
who  have  already  been  introduced,  were  their 
five  sons,  "  the  boys,"  Mr.  Porter  called  them. 
Queer  "  boys,"  Maggie  and  Bessie  thought 
them  ;  all,  save  the  youngest,  great,  sturdy 
men  with  sunburned  faces  and  toil-hardened 
hands.     But    though    their   hands  were  hard, 


38  Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

their  hearts  were  not,  and  seemed  to  have  a 
particularly  soft  spot  for  all  these  little  ones. 
Mr.  Porter's  family  were  all  fond  of  children, 
and  never  seemed  to  think  anything  too  much 
trouble  which  could  possibly  give  them  pleas- 
ure. Next  to  these  grown  up  "  boys,"  came 
Fanny  and  Dolly,  two  lively,  good  natured 
young  women  ;  and  last  of  all,  Bob,  a  boy 
about  fourteen,  quite  ready  to  make  friends 
with  the  children,  and  to  show  them  all  the 
wonders  of  the  place. 

The  first  thing  to  be  thought  of  after  break- 
fast the  next  morning  was  the  squirrels.     Bob 
was  as   anxious   to   show   them   to    the   little 
strangers  as  they  were  to  see  them  ;  and  fol- 
lowed by  the  whole  troop,  he  led  the  way  to 
their  haunt.     This  was  a    great  black-walnut 
tree,  which  stood  at  a  short  distance  from  the 
house,  and  threw  its  green  branches  far  and 
tvide,  casting  a   delightful   shade  below,  and 
furnishing  a  cosy  home  and  leafy  play-ground 
for   the    squirrels.     About  half  way   up    the 
trunk   was   a   hole    which    was  the    entrance 


The  Squirrels  and  the  Ice   Glen,    39 

to  their  nest.  At  this  hour  of  the  day,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Bunny  and  their  family  were  gener- 
ally to  be  seen  frisking  about  all  over  and 
among  the  boughs,  waiting  for  the  nice  break- 
fast which  was  sure  to  be  provided  for  them 
by  the  kind  young  master  who  had  chosen 
them  for  his  pets.  If  the  squirrels  could  have 
reasoned  about  it,  they  would  probably  have 
said  that  Bob  Porter  was  a  capital  master  to 
belong  to.  He  fed  them  and  played  with 
them,  never  shutting  them  up  or  asking  any 
work  in  return  ;  their  love  was  all  he  wanted, 
and  that  he  had  gained  in  a  way  curious  to  see. 

They  were  usually  ready  enough  to  wel- 
come his  approach  ;  but  now,  startled  by  the 
unaccustomed  sight  of  so  many  strangers, 
every  mother's  son  and  daughter  of  them 
scampered  away  to  hide  themselves  in  the  nest. 
In  half  a  moment  not  the  end  of  a  tail  or  the 
tip  of  a  nose  was  to  be  seen,  and  the  children 
feared  that  they  were  to  be  disappointed. 

But  telling  them  to  stand  at  a  little  dis- 
tance from  him,  yet  not  so  far  but  that  they 


40         Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

could  sec  all  that  passed,  Bob  sat  down  upon 
the  end  of  a  log  and  began  calling  gently, 
"  Bunny,  Bunny." 

Presently  a  black  nose,  two  cute  little  ears, 
and  a  pair  of  sharp,  bright  eyes  appeared  at 
the  opening  in  the  tree.  The  nose  sniffed 
about  in  a  very  suspicious  manner,  and  the 
eyes  wandered  from  Bob  to  the  group  beyond, 
and  then  back  again  to  Bob,  as  if  they  would 
ask,  "  Who  are  all  these  strange  people  ?  Are 
they  friends  or  foes  ?  and  why  have  you 
brought  them  here  ?  " 

But  at  last,  as  if  satisfied  that  the  new  faces 
were  friendly  ones,  Papa  Squirrel,  for  it  was 
he,  put  forth  his  whole  head,  next  his  gray 
body  appeared,  and  then  his  beautiful,  feath- 
ery tail.  Running  along  a  branch  he  curved 
his  tail  over  his  head,  and  sitting  down,  gavo 
a  cheerful,  chirruping  call,  which  perhaps 
meant  that  there  was  no  danger  ;  for  in  a 
moment  the  whole  tree  seemed  to  be  alive 
with  the  rest  of  the  family.  Eleven  squirrels 
in    all,   large    and    small,    were   counted    by 


The  Squirrels  and  the  Ice   Glen.    :\\ 

the  delighted  children.  But  although  they 
watched  their  young  visitors  from  among  the 
branches*  they  still  seemed  too  timid  to 
come  nearer  and  take  the  tempting  break- 
fast which  Bob  had  provided  for  them ;  till 
Mrs.  Bunny,  either  more  hungry  or  less  cau- 
tious than  her  mate  and  children,  came  whisk- 
ing down  the  trunk  of  the  walnut-tree,  and  in 
another  moment  was  seated  upon  Bob's  shoul- 
der, holding  in  her  lore-paws  the  almond  he 
had  given  her,  and  opening  it  with  her  sharp, 
pointed  teeth.  This  was  too  much  for  the 
others,  and  one  after  another  they  descended 
the  tree  and  received  their  breakfast.  Thero 
sat  Bob,  a  squirrel  upon  each  shoulder,  one 
on  his  head,  others  on  his  knees  and  hands, 
while  one  little  fellow  perched  upon  the  toe  of 
his  boot,  and,  with  a  very  contented  air 
cracked  and  cat  his  almond. 

It  was  a  pretty  sight,  and  a  proud  boy  was 
Bob,  as  he  sat  thus  surrounded  by  his  pets, 
and  listened  to  the  exclamations  of  delight 
and  wonder  uttered  by  the  other  children  in 


12  Bessie  among  the  Mountains 


& 


a  low  tone,  lest  they  should  again  startle 
the  little  creatures.  They  were  particularly 
amused  hy  the  antics  of  one  saucy  rogue,  who, 
not  satisfied  with  the  share  which  had  fallen  to 
him,  crept  under  Bob's  arm,  and  actually  began 
thrusting  his  nose  into  his  pocket  in  search 
of  more  almonds.  Not  finding  any,  he  be- 
came indignant,  .and  raced  off  to  the  tree, 
where  he  seated  himself  on  the  end  of  a 
bough,  and  chattered  away  as  though  he 
were  scolding  at  Bob  for  not  having  pro- 
vided more. 

"  He  is  the  greedy  one  of  the  lot,"  said 
Btb,  "  and  I  have  to  watch  him,  or  he  eats 
his  own  share  and  then  robs  those  that  are 
weaker  than  himself,  if  he  gets  the  chance." 

"  But  how  did  you  do  it,  Bob  ? "  asked 
Harry.  "  How  did  you  tame  them  so  when 
they  were  not  in  a  cage  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  it's  not  so  hard,"  said  Bob,  a  little 
boastfully.  "  You  see  father  will  never  let 
me  shut  up  any  animal  or  any  bird  that  is 
used  to  being  free  ;  and  I  was  set  upon  having 


The  Squirrels  and  the  Ice   Glen.      43 

a  tamo  squirrel.  This  old  fellow  here,"  and 
Bob  pointed  to  the  largest  of  the  squirrels 
which  sat  upon  his  shoulder  ;  4i  this  old  fellow 
and  his  mate  lived  in  the  walnut,  and  I  was 
wild  to  catch  them.  But,  as  father  said  no, 
I  thought  I  would  hit  upon  a  plan  by  which 
they  would  learn  to  know  me,  and  come  at 
my  call.  So  one  day  I  left  two  nuts  here 
on  the  log,  and  went  away.  When  I  came 
back  some  time  after,  the  nuts  were  gone. 
This  I  did  the  next  day  and  the  next,  always 
keeping  about  for  a  while  first.  Then  I  put 
down  the  nuts  and  went  off  yonder  to  that 
maple,  where  I  waited.  It's  not  so  far  but 
that  the  squirrels  could  sec  me,  but  after 
watching  me  for  a  few  moments  as  if  they 
thought  I  might  be  laying  a  trap  for  them, 
they  whisked  down  after  the  nuts,  and  then 
whisked  back  again  in  a  terrible  hurry. 
Every  day  I  came  a  little  nearer  than  the 
day  before,  and  they  soon  learned  to  know 
me  ;  I  could  even  see  that  they  watched  for 
me.     At  last  one  day  I  laid   a  couple  of  al- 


44        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

monds  on  one  end  of  the  log,  and  sat  down  on 
the  other.  It  was  a  good  while  before  they 
would  come  down  that  day,  but  at  last  they 
did,  and  after  that  I  had  no  more  trouble. 
When  they  found  I  did  not  try  to  touch  them, 
they  came  nearer  and  nearer,  till  at  last  they 
took  the  nuts  from  my  hand,  and  now  as  you 
see,  they  are  as  tame  as  squirrels  could  be, 
and  have  taught  their  young  ones  to  have  no 
fear  of  me.  It  is  two  years  this  summer  since 
I  tamed  the  old  pair,  and  now  the  rest  all 
know  me  as  well  as  they  do." 

"  It's  jolly  fun  to  see  them,"  said  Fred. 

"  And  it's  a  great  deal  jolly  funnier  than  if 
you  caught  them  and  shut  them  up  in  a  cage, 
is  it  not  ?  "  said  Bessie. 

The  boys  laughed. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  answered  Bob.  "  Hi,  hi ! 
what  ails  the  fellows  ?  "  as  all  the  squirrels 
sprang  from  him  and  whisked  up  the  walnut 
tree.  What  "  ailed  the  fellows,"  was  soon 
Been,  for  even  as  he  spoke,  Flossy,  who  had 
been  left  shut  up  in  the  house  lest  he  should 


The  Squirrels  and  the  Ice  Glen,    45 

frighten  the  bunnies,  came  tearing  round  a 
great  rock,  and  rushed  to  the  foot  of  the  tree, 
where  he  commenced  a  great  barking.  But 
the  squirrels  were  all  safe  in  their  green 
house,  and  as  if  they  knew  this,  peepeij 
down  from  among  the  leaves  at  Flossy  with 
the  greatest  unconcern. 

Flossy  was  followed  by  papa,  Uncle  Ruth- 
ven  and  the  Colonel ;  and  Uncle  Ruth  von 
confessed  himself  the  guilty  person  who  had 
let  Flossy  escape  out  of  his  prison. 

"  The  poor  fellow  thought  it  hard  he  should 
not  have  his  share  of  fun,  and  was  making  a 
pitiful  whining  and  whimpering,"  said  Mr. 
Stanton,  "  so  I  let  him  out  on  the  promise 
that  he  should  be  good." 

"  But  how  could  he  promise  when,  he  can't 
speak  ?  "  said  Bessie. 

14  I  asked  him  if  he  would  be  quiet  and 
good  like  a  well  brought  up  puppy  if  I  let 
him  out,  and  he  said  '  wow,'  which  in  dog 
language  means  yes,  does  it  not?"  asked 
Uncle  Ruthven. 


46        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

"  And  it  means  no,  and  thank  you,  and  if 
you  please,  and  I  love  you,  and  everything 
else  he  wants  to  say,"  said  Maggie,  catching 
up  her  frisky  pet  in  her  arms  and  giving  him 
a  hug,  which  he  returned  by  putting  his  cold 
nose  in  her  face,  after  which  he  struggled  to 
be  put  down  again,  for  so  glad  was  he  to  be 
free  this  pleasant  morning  that  he  wished  to 
show  it  by  frolicking  about  on  his  own  four 
feet. 

And  now  papa  proposed  they  should  visit 
the  Ice  Glen,  to  which  the  children,  who  had 
had  enough  of  the  squirrels  for  the  present, 
readily  agreed.  This  Ice  Glen  was  a  very 
wonderful  place,  interesting  even  to  grown 
people,  and  the  whole  party  were  anxious 
to  visit  it ;  so  they  stopped  at  the  house  that 
mamma  and  the  other  ladies  might  join  them. 
The  last  part  of  the  walk  was  rather  rough, 
and  it  was  as  much  as  the  Colonel,  with  the 
help  of  his  cane  and  Mr.  Bradford's  arm, 
could  do  to  make  his  way  over  the  rocks  and 
fallen  trees.     Uncle  Ruthven   helped  the   la 


The  Squirrels  and  the  Ice  Glen.    47 

dies,  and  lifted  the  little  girls  over  such  places 
as  were  too  hard  for  them.  But  Maggie 
would  not  have  much  help,  and  scrambled 
and  climbed  almost  as  if  she  had  been  a 
squirrel  herself.  As  for  Flossy,  if  he  had 
made  that  promise  of  which  Uncle  Ruthven 
spoke,  he  certainly  did  not  keep  it. 

Bessie  said  she  thought  that  "  wow  "  had 
meant  no,  not  yes. 

First,  the  mischievous  puppy  started  a  little 
black  and  white  rabbit,  and  sent  it  scampering 
away  as  fast  as  its  feet  could  carry  it,  rushing 
after  it  among  all  the  underbrush  and  briars, 
and  never  heeding  the  coaxing  calls  of  his 
little  mistresses  or  the  louder  and  sterner 
voices  of  their  brothers  ;  then  coming  back 
lie  rushed  into  a  brook  which  ran  by  the 
way,  and  after  rolling  himself  in  it  till  the 
water  was  dripping  from  his  silky  coat,  he 
shook  himself  and  sent  a  shower  of  diops 
over  the  clean  white  dresses  of  the  little 
girls  ;  and  then  finding  the  hole  of  a  wood- 
chuck,  he  began  scratching  .and  burying  him- 


48        Bessie  among   the  Mountains, 

self  in  the  earth  in  a  frenzy  to  find  the  poor 
creature  ;  so  that,  his  hair  being  wet,  he  wae 
a  sight  to  behold  when  Harry  pulled  him  out, 
covered  with  mud  from  head  to  foot,  and  had 
to  be  sent  behind  in  disgrace. 

The  Ice  Glen  was  truly  a  curious  spot.  A 
narrow  pathway  led  through  it,  on  one  side  of 
which  was  a  wall  of  rock,  so  steep  that  not 
even  nimble  Fred  could  have  climbed  it ;  on 
the  other  was  a  shelving  bank  covered  with 
tall  pines  and  firs.  It  was  a  gloomy  place 
where  the  sun  never  shone,  and  our  party 
felt  the  chill  from  it  before  they  entered,  so 
that  mamma  said  she  was  half  afraid  to  have 
Bessie  go  in,  so  great  was  the  change  from 
the  warm  summer  air  without.  But  Mr. 
Bradford  said  there  was  no  danger  if  they  did 
not  stay  too  long,  or  sit  down  in  the  glen.  At 
the  foot  of  the  wall  of  rock  lay  great  stones 
piled  one  over  another  ;  and  looking  through 
the  spaces  between  these,  the  little  girls  saw 
masses  of  ice  hard  as  the  rock  above,  which 
lay  there  all  the  year  round.     How  far  below 


The  Squirrels  a?id  the  Ice  Glen.      49 

the  surface  they  reached,  no  one  knew ;  but 
there  must  have  been  a  great  quantity  of  ice 
there,  since  summer  or  winter,  it  never  disap- 
peared. Little  rills  and  springs,  cold  as 
the  ice  itself,  and  delicious  to  drink,  slowly 
trickled  from  each  end  of  the  glen,  but  though 
they  ran  all  summer  long,  they  never  seemed 
to  make  any  difference  in  the  great  mass  which 
lay  within.  The  children  thought  it  wonder- 
ful, as  indeed  it  was,  and  were  very  unwilling 
to  come  away  when  mamma  said  they  had 
stayed  there  as  long  as  she  thought  safe. 
They  were  forbidden  to  go  there  without* some 
grown  person,  but  this  command  was  scarcely 
needed  by  the  little  girls,  since  Bessie  could 
not  have  made  her  way  alone  without  the  help 
of  some  stronger  hand  ;  and  though  Maggie 
thought  the  glen  a  great  curiosity,  she  did  not 
like  the  chill  and  gloom  of  the  place,  and  was 
glad  to  come  out  once  more  into  the  bright 
sunshine  which  met  them  at  the  entrance. 

And  here  there  was  another  thing  which  in- 
terested her  and  Bessie  very  much.     Directly 


co  Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

over  the  little  stream  which  ran  from  the 
glen,  was  a  small,  neat,  wooden  building, 
carefully  closed.  The  children  had  asked 
what  it  was  when  they  passed  it  the  first  time, 
but  papa  said  he  did  not  know  ;  it  had  been 
put  up  since  he  had  been  there  last.  But 
now  they  saw  Fanny  Porter  unlocking  the 
door,  and  Maggie  and  Bessie  ran  eagerly  for- 
ward to  ask  the  use  of  the  little  house. 

"I'll  show  you,"  said  Fanny,  good-na- 
turedly, and  she  threw  open  the  door  and 
window  shutters,  letting  in  the  light  and  air. 
"  This  is  our  new  dairy,  Mrs.  Bradford,"  she 
continued,  as  the  older  people  came  nearer. 
"  Will  you  not  walk  in  with  the  other  ladies 
and  gentlemen  ?  " 

The  whole  party  were  well  pleased  to  enter 
the  neat,  pleasant-looking  dairy.  The  floor 
was  paved  with  large  flat  stones,  sloping  from 
the  front  and  back  of  the  building  towards  the 
middle,  and  through  the  channel  thus  formed 
was  led  the  clear,  cold  stream  which  ran  from 
the  glen.     In  the  icy  water  stood  several  great 


The  Squirrels  and  the  Ice   Glen.     51 

earthen  pots,  carefully  covered.  Around  the 
room  ran  a  broad  shelf,  also  of  stone,  and  on 
this  were  placed  the  bright  tin  pans,  most  of 
them  now  full  of  milk,  and  in  one  corner  were 
two  or  three  churns.  The  whole  dairy  was  as 
neat  as  hands  could  make  it,  so  it  was  quite  a 
pleasure  to  think  of  milk  and  butter  which 
should  come  from  such  a  place. 

11  Father  thought  he  would  make  the  Ice 
Glen  useful  as  well  as  curious,"  said  Fanny 
Porter.  "See,  Mrs.  Bradford,  what  this  cold 
water  does  for  our  butter;"  and  taking  the 
cover  from  one  of  the  stone  pots,  she  handed 
a  wooden  spaddle  to  the  lady.  Mrs.  Bradford 
pressed  it  upon  the  butter,  which  she  found 
almost  as  firm  and  hard  as  the  rock. 

"  Do  you  make  butter  here  ?  "  asked  Bessie. 

"Indeed  we  do,"  said  Fanny.  "I  am  go- 
ing  to  churn  now,  and  if  your  mother  will  let 
you  stay,  you  may  see  how  I  do  it." 

Permission  was  given,  and  the  grown  poo- 
ple  went  away,  leaving  Maggie  and  Bessie  with 
the  good-natured  Fanny. 


52  Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

"  Could  you  let  us  help  you  a  little  ? " 
asked  Bessie. 

u  Help  me  ?  "  repeated  Fanny,  looking  with 
a  smile  at  the  tiny  figure  she  was  just  lifting 
upon  a  high  stool,  the  only  seat  the  dairy  con- 
tained. "  I  guess  you  do  not  know  what 
hard  work  churning  is,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  we  are  accustomed  to  it,"  said  Bessie. 
"  We  have  a  little  churn  at  home,  and  we 
churn  water,  only  it  never  makes  butter." 

"  No,  I  suppose  not,"  said  Fanny.  "  And 
now  would  you  like  a  drink  after  your  walk  ?  " 

The  children  said  they  would,  and  taking 
down  a  dipper  from  the  wall,  Fanny  gave 
them  a  drink  of  the  rich,  cold  milk.  After 
this  she  poured  into  the  churn  a  quantity  of 
thick,  yellow  cream,  and  putting  on  the  cover, 
she  told  Bessie  to  stand  upon  the  stool  and  go 
to  work. 

But  Bessie  found  churning  water  in  her 
own  little  churn  at  home,  was  a  very  different 
thing  from  trying  to  make  the  butter  come 
with  that  heavy  dasher ;    she   could  scarcely 


The  Squirrels  and  the  Ice   Glen.     53 

6tir  it,  and  in  a  moment  she  was  quite  satis- 
fied. Maggie  being  stronger,  pulled  the 
dasher  up  and  down  a  few  times,  and  did  not 
give  up  until  she  was  red  in  the  face,  and  her 
little  hands  were  smarting  with  the  hard  work 
they  were  not  used  to. 

The  butter  did  not  come  by  any  means  as 
quickly  as  the  children  expected,  even  when 
Fanny  took  hold  ;  and,  tired  of  waiting  for  it, 
they  presently  began  to  amuse  themselves 
with  sailing  the  acorn  cups  which  they  had 
picked  up  in  their  walk,  in  the  stream  which 
ran  through  the  dairy.  It  was  great  fun  to 
launch  them  at  the  upper  end,  and  watch 
them  as  they  floated  down,  now  driven  against 
a  butter  pot,  now  passing  round  it,  and  at  last 
carried  out  at  the  farther  end  of  the  dairy. 

By  the  time  they  had  had  enough  of  this 
amusement,  the  kind  Fanny  said  the  butter 
had  come,  and  taking  off  the  cover  of  the 
churn,  she  dashed  in  a  quantity  of  cold  water 
from  that  convenient  little  stream,  having  first 
lifted    Maggie  and   Bessie  upon  the    shelf,  so 


54  Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

that  they  might  be  high  enough  to  look  down 
into  the  churn.  The  butter  which  was  float- 
ing about  in  tiny  lumps,  instantly  collected 
together,  and  bringing  a  dish,  Fanny  scooped 
it  out  with  a  wooden  ladle,  and  laid  it  in  a 
rich,  creamy  mass.  Then  she  threw  in  a  little 
salt,  and  having  worked  and  pressed  it  till  it 
was  free  from  every  drop  of  water,  she  packed 
it  away  in  a  stone  pot,  and  set  that  with  the 
others  in  the  running  water.  "The  children 
watched  her  with  great  interest  until  all  was 
done,  and  were  still  standing  by  while  she 
skimmed  the  cream  from  some  of  the  many 
pans  of  milk,  when  Jane  came  to  tell  them 
their  mamma  wished  them  to  come  back  to 
the  house. 


A^!-^»  AM^Sj&JHr^  &j&^*t .&J&-*  AjUAiWij 


Hr^f^vr^-Jp^eWLjts-vt^-wvr^^ 


III. 
A    VISIT   TO  AUNT  PATTT. 


1R.  BRADFORD  had  brought  from  the 
city  a  famous  rockaway,  or  carryall, 


large  enough  to  hold  all  his  own  fam- 
ily and  one  or  two  persons  beside  ;  light  but 
strong,  and  just  the  thing  for  these  mountain 
roads.  The  first  use  to  which  it  was  to  be  put 
was  to  take  them  all  for  two  visits  that  after- 
noon, one  to  Aunt  Patty,  the  other  to  the 
homestead  where  Cousin  Alexander  lived.  It 
was  a  bright,  sunny  afternoon,  yet  not  too 
warm  to  be  pleasant,  the  air  was  gay  with  tho 
hum  of  bees  and  butterflies,  the  blue  sky,  dap- 
pled with  fleecy  clouds,  was  reflected  in  tho 
clear  water,  mingled  with  tho  shadow  of  the 
rocks  and  trees  ;  swallows  skimmed  over  the 
surface  of  the  lake,  chasing  the  myriads  of  in- 


56  Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

sects  which  hummed  in  the  summer  air ;  and 
as  the  carriage  drove  along  the  road  which  lay 
between  the  water  and  the  great  overhanging 
rocks,  more  than  one  fish  was  seen  to  dart 
swiftly  away  from  the  shady  pool  where  he 
had  been  snugly  lying  till  disturbed  by  the 
rumble  of  the  wheels. 

They  did  not  go  down  the  mountain  by  the 
road  up  which  they  had  come  the  night  before, 
but  struck  into  another  which  led  in  an  oppo- 
site direction.  It  ran  through  the  forest  for  a 
long  distance,  and  was  not  so  steep,  and 
more  shady,  which  was  no  objection  on  this 
warm  day. 

"  Stop  at  Todd's  cottage,  if  you  please,  Mr. 
Porter,"  said  Mr.  Bradford,  as  they  came  out 
of  the  forest  and  saw  before  them  a  small 
farm-house,  with  half  a  dozen  out-buildings 
about  it. 

"  Who  is  Todd,  papa  ?  "  asked  Maggie. 

But  before  Mr.  Bradford  could  answer,  all 
curiosity  about  Todd,  or  why  they  were  to 
stop  at  his  house,  was  set  at  rest.     As  they 


A    Visit  to  Aunt  Patty.  57 

turned  the  corner  they  saw,  standing  in  the 
jiorch  of  the  farm-house,  a  woman  with  a  baby 
in  her  arms  ;  while  hanging  over  the  gate  and 
whistling  as  he  looked  up  the  road,  was  a  boy 
about  the  size  of  Fred.  They  were  Mrs.  Rich- 
ards and  Willie,  no  longer  "  blind  Willie," 
the  sightless  little  child  whose  sad  face  and 
patient,  waiting  manner,  had  so  touched  the 
hearts  of  all  who  looked  upon  him.  A  deli- 
cate looking  boy  Willie  was  still,  though  two 
weeks'  stay  in  this  fresh,  pure,  mountain  air 
had  done  wonders  for  him.  It  was  a  pretty 
sight  to  see  his  delight  in  all  about  him,  in  the 
sunshine  and  clouds,  in  the  blue  sky  and  the 
bright  water,  in  the  grass  and  flowers,  in  birds 
and  animals,  and  above  all  in  the  dear  faces 
which  had  been  shut  out  from  his  poor  eyes 
for  so  many  weary  months. 

A  light  flush  mounted  to  his  pale  cheeks  as 
he  caught  sight  of  his  friends  in  the  carriage^ 
the  good,  kind  friends  to  whom  he  owed  so 
much ;  and  calling  to  his  mother,  he  sprang 


58  Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

from  the  gate,  as  Mr.  Porter  drew  in  bis 
horses,  and  hastened  to  open  it. 

"  Never  mind,  Willie,"  said  Mr.  Bradford  ; 
"  we  cannot  come  in  this  afternoon.  Some 
other  day,  perhaps  ;  but  now  we  only  stopped 
to  ask  how  you  are  coming  on  ?  How  do  you 
do,  Mrs.  Richards  ?  " 

"  Bravely,  sir,"  answered  the  smiling  Mrs. 
Richards ;  "  and  as  for  Willie  and  the  baby, 
they  are  improving  wonderfully,  thanks  to 
your  kindness." 

"It  is  my  little  girls  you  must  thank,  Mrs. 
Richards,"  said  Mr.  Bradford. 

"But  we  don't  want  to  be  thanked,"  said 
Bessie,  quickly.  "  We  quite  liked  to  have 
you  come  up  here,  Mrs.  Richards,  and  we  felt 
very  much  thankful  ourselves  when  Uncle 
Ruth ven  gave  us  the  money  to  send  you." 

"  Willie,"  said  Maggie,  "  do  you  enjoy  be- 
ing disblinded  just  as  much  as  you"  did  at 
first  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  Willie,  laughing  at 
Maggie's  new  word ;    "and  every  tiling  looks 


A    Visit  to  Aunt  Patty.  59 

so  much  nicer  than  it  did  before  I  was  blind. 
Somehow,  I  think  the  world  did  grow  prettier 
while  I  could  not  see  it,  though  mother  says  it 
only  seems  so  to  me." 

"  Ah,  that  is  often  the  way,  Willie,"  said 
Mr.  Bradford.  "  God  sometimes  has  to  teach 
us  the  worth  of  the  blessings  He  has  given  us 
by  taking  them  from  us." 

After  a  little  more  talk  with  Willie  and  his 
mother,  they  bade  good-by  ;  kind  Mr.  Porter 
first  saying  lie  would  send  down  for  Willie 
some  day  and  let  him  come  up  to  his  place. 

They  drove  on  till  they  came  to  the  more 
open  country,  and  saw  before  them  Aunt  Pat- 
ty's house,  and  beyond  that,  the  grand  old 
homestead  of  which  they  had  heard  so  much, 
and  of  which  papa  was  so  fond. 

Aunt  Patty's  home  was  a  pretty,  snug  cot- 
tage on  the  side  of  a  hill  ;  its  front  covered 
with  a  beautiful  trumpet  creeper,  which  went 
climbing  up  to  the  very  top  of  the  many-cor- 
nered old  chimney,  and  wreathing  itself  over 
the  little  porch  and    the    bow  window  of  the 


60         Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

sitting-room,  until  the  house  looked  like  a 
quiet  green  nest.  A  great  white  cat  peeped 
out  from  behind  the  geraniums  which  filled 
the  window ;  a  greyhound  lay  upon  the  door- 
mat, and  beneath  and  about  the  porch  hung 
several  bird-cages,  containing  half  a  dozen  ca- 
naries and  two  mocking-birds,  while  a  don- 
key and  a  tame  goat  looked,  the  one  over,  the 
other  between  the  bars  of  the  fence  which  di- 
vided their  little  pasture  ground  from  the  neat 
garden.  For  Aunt  Patty  was  very  fond  of 
dumb  pets,  and  had  collected  about  her  a 
number,  each  one  of  which  knew  her  voice, 
and  would  come  at  her  call ;  and  she  was 
never  sharp  and  short  with  them  as  she  some- 
times was  with  her  own  fellow  creatures,  for 
they  never,  even  by  accident,  gave  her  of- 
fence. 

The  old  lady  herself  came  to  the  door  to 
meet  her  guests,  more  pleased  than  she  would 
have  been  willing  to  say,  that  they  had  come 
to  visit  her  on  the  first  day  of  their  stay  at 
Chalecoo.     She  seized  Fraukie  in  her  arms  and 


A    Visit  to  Aunt  Patty,  61 

covered  him  with  kisses  ;  but  that  roguish 
young  gentleman  after  exclaiming,  "  Hallo, 
Patty  ! "  would  have  nothing  more  to  say  to 
her,  and  struggled  to  be  set  free  that  he 
might  run  and  see  "  dat  nanny-doat  and  dat 
pony  wis  long  ears." 

Maggie  and  Bessie  were  more  polite  than 
their  little  brother,  and  though  they  would 
have  liked  to  follow  him  at  once,  waited 
quietly  till  Aunt  Patty  asked  them  if  they  did 
not  wish  to  run  about  and  make  acquaintance 
with  all  her  pets. 

Glad  of  the  permission,  the  little  girls  ran 
out,  and  turned  to  the  paddock,  where  they 
found  Frankie  seated  upon  the  donkey's  back. 

The  boys  had  not  gone  into  the  house,  but 
after  shaking  hands  with  Aunt  Patty  at  the 
door,  had  remained  without  in  search  of  what 
amusement  they  could  find.  The  donkey  was 
the  first  thing  that  had  taken  their  attention 
as  well  as  that  of  Frankie  ;  and  when  the  lit- 
tle fellow  came  out  clamoring  for  a  ride,  they 
were  quite  ready  to  indulge  him.     Harry  had 


62         Bessie  among  the  Mountains 


& 


been  half  doubtful  if  they  bad  not  better  first 
ask  Aunt  Patty's  permission,  but  Fred  had 
said, — 

"  Pooh !  what's  the  use  ?  She  would  let 
Frankie  dance  on  her  own  head,  if  ho  wanted 
to." 

So  Harry  had  allowed  himself  to  be  per- 
suaded, and  in  another  moment  the  donkey, 
much  to  his  own  astonishment,  found  Frankie 
seated  upon  his  back. 

Now  this  donkey  was  not  at  all  accustomed 
to  children  ;  for  those  of  Mr.  Alexander  Brad- 
ford, who  lived  at  the  homestead,  seldom  came 
to  see  Aunt  Patty,  and  when  they  did  so,  they 
would  as  soon  have  thought  of  asking  to 
ride  upon  her  back  as  upon  that  of  the  don- 
key. To  be  harnessed  in  the  little  pony-car- 
riage, and  trot  about  with  the  old  lady  for  her 
daily  drive,  was  all  the  work  to  which  None- 
such was  used  ;  and  when  he  found  Frankie 
perched  upon  him,  he  was  very  much  dis- 
pleased, and  began  a  series  of  antics  and 
prancings  which  were   more   becoming  some 


A    Visit  to  Aunt  Patty.  63 

frisky  pony  than  a  sober,  well-behaved  don- 
key. But  try  as  he  would,  he  could  not 
shake  Frankie  off.  The  bold  little  rogue  was 
not  at  all  frightened,  and  clung  like  a  burr  to 
his  indignant  steed.  It  was  hard  to  tell  which 
would  come  off  victor.  But  at  the  side  of  the 
paddock  ran  one  of  the  many  streams  in 
which  this  mountain  country  rejoiced,  shad- 
owed with  a  growth  of  elder,  sumach,  and 
other  high  bushes.  Nonesuch  had  raced  with 
Frankie  to  the  very  edge  of  this  little  rivulet, 
and  then  stood  still  for  a  moment  as  if  consid- 
ering what  he  would  do  next,  when  a  hand, 
holding  a  long,  thorny  switch,  was  suddenly 
put  forth  from  the  clump  of  bushes,  and 
Nonesuch  received  a  stinging  blow  across  his 
haunches.  Down  went  the  donkey's  nose  and 
up  went  his  heels,  as  he  sent  Frankie  flying 
directly  over  his  head  into  the  stream,  and 
then  tore  away  to  the  further  side  of  the  field. 
Maggie  and  Bessie  were  very  much  startled, 
and  screamed  aloud,  and  even  Harry  and  Fred 
were  a  good  deal  alarmed;  but  the  child  hiin- 


C4         Bessie  among  the  Mountains-. 

self  did  not  seem  to  be  at  all  frightened,  and 
when  his  brothers  pulled  him  out  of  tho 
water,  did  not  cry,  but  looked  after  the  don- 
key in  great  surprise,  exclaiming,  — 
"  Why,  dat  pony  spilled  me  a  little  !  " 
Harry  and  Fred  laughed  at  this,  but  Maggij 
and  Bessie  thought  it  no  laughing  matter ;  nor 
did  mamma,  When  alarmed  by  their  screams 
the  grown  people  came  running  from  the 
house.  Frankie  was  drenched  from  head  to 
foot,  and  had  to  bo  carried  at  once  to  the 
house,  undressed  and  rubbed  dry.  Then  he 
was  wrapped  in  a  blanket,  while  a  messenger 
was  sent  to  the  homestead  to  borrow  some 
clothes  for  him.  The  little  fellow  thought 
this  rather  hard,  and  a  very  poor  ending  to 
his  afternoon's  amusement,  especially  when 
no  clothes  could  be  found  to  fit  him  but  those 
of  little  Katy  Bradford. 

Meanwhile  Fred  was  off,  no  one  knew  where. 
At  the  moment  Frankie  had  gone  over  tho 
donkey's  head  a  loud  mocking  laugh  had  re- 
sounded from  behind  the  clump  of  bushes,  as 


A    Visit  to  Aunt  Patty,  65 

though  the  person  who  had  given  the  blow 
were  rejoicing  in  the  mischief  he  had  done. 

Fred  only  waited  to  see  Frankie  safely  out  of 
the  water,  and  then,  leaving  him  to  the  care 
of  his  brother  and  sisters,  darted  across  the 
stream  and  forced  his  way  through  the  bushes 
in  search  of  the  guilty  person.  At  a  little 
distance  from  him  stood  two  miserable  looking 
objects,  a  boy  about  his  own  size,  a  girl  rather 
younger  ;  both  dirty,  ragged,  and  half-starved, 
hatless  and  shoeless.  A  wicked  looking  boy 
and  girl  they  were  too,  and  as  Fred  appeared 
they  greeted  him  with  grimaces  and  vulgar 
noises ;  then  as  he  darted  at  the  boy,  turned 
and  ran. 

Fred  gave  chase,  and  in  a  moment  had  over- 
taken the  girl.  But  hot-tempered  and  hasty 
though  he  was,  Fred  was  not  the  boy  to  fight 
with  one  who  was  weaker  than  himself;  and 
he  passed  her  without  notice,  keeping  on  after 
her  companion.  But  active  as  he  was,  he 
Boon  found  he  was  no  match  for  the  young 
rascal  in  front  of  him,  whose  feet  scarcely 
5 


66        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

seemed  to  touch  the  ground,  and  who  threw 
himself  headlong  over  fences  and  hedges,  as 
though  he  had  forgotten  he  had  a  neck  and 
limbs  which  might  be  broken. 

So  turning  about,  Fred  went  after  the  girl, 
und  soon  had  his  hand  upon  her  arm,  calling 
upon  her  to  stop.  She  did  so,  at  the  same 
time  cowering  and  raising  the  other  arm  to 
shield  her  head  and  face  as  if  expecting  a 
blow. 

"  You  •  don't  think  1  am  going  to  strike 
you  ?  "  said  Fred,  "  a  nice  kind  of  a  chap  I'd 
be  to  strike  a  girl.  I  say,  what  did  you  hit 
that  donkey  for  ?" 

"  I  didn't,"  she  replied  sullenly,  "  it  was 
him." 

"  What  did  he  do  it  for  ?  Nobody  was  do- 
ing anything  to  him.  And  I'll  be  bound  you 
had  the  will  to  do  it." 

"  He  did  it  cos  he  had  a  mind  to,"  she 
said,  shaking  herself  free  from  Fred's  hold, 
M  and  he'll  do  it  agin  if  he  has  a  mind  to." 


A    Visit    to  Aunt  Patty.  67 

"He'd  better  not,"  said  Fred,  "  if  he  does, 
I'll  fix  him." 

"  S'posiu'  you  can  catch  him,"  she  answered, 
growing  bold  and  impudent,  as  she  saw  she 
need  fear  no  violence  from  Fred.  "  Taint 
none  of  your  donkeys." 

"  It  was  my  little  brother  he  meant  to 
plague  though,"  said  Fred.  "  He'd  better 
look  out  how  he  troubles  us  again.  Just  you 
tell  him  that." 

"  He  aint  afraid  of  you,"  said  the  girl,  "  1 
jist  hope  the  young  un's  fine  clothes  was 
spoiled.  Good  enough  for  him,"  and  making 
up  a  hideous  face  at  Fred  she  ran  off  a  few 
steps,  and  then  as  if  the  spirit  of  mischief 
within  her  were  too  strong  even  for  her  fear 
of  him,  stooped,  and  picking  up  a  large  stone 
threw  it  with  all  her  strength.  It  hit  Fred 
upon  the  knee  with  such  force  that,  brave  as 
he  was,  he  could  scarcely  help  crying  aloud, 
and  was  obliged  to  sit  down  upon  the  ground 
until  the  pain  had  somewhat  passed.  By  the 
time  he  was  on  his  feet  again  the  girl  was  out 


68         Bessie  among  the  Mountains 


o 


of  sight,    and  poor  Fred  limped  back  to  Aunt « 
Fatty's  cottage. 

Here  the  bruised  and  swollen  knee  was 
bathed  and  bound  up,  but  Fred  was  forced  to 
keep  still,  not  only  this  afternoon,  but  for  sev- 
eral succeeding  days. 

It  would  be  hard  to  tell  with  what  horror 
the  children  looked  upon  the  boy  and  girl 
whom  Fred  described,  and  who  had  done  all 
this  unprovoked  mischief. 

After  the  donkey  and  goat,  the  birds,  kittens 
and  other  pets  had  been  visited,  there  was  not 
much  to  interest  the  children  in  Aunt  Patty's 
house  ;  and  they  were  not  very  sorry  when 
the  visit  came  to  an  end,  and  they  were  all  on 
their  way  to  the  homestead. 

There  was  certainly  enough  to  please  them 
here.  It  was  a  grand  old  house,  standing  in 
the  midst  of  a  grove  of  maples,  and  behind  it 
stretched  an  immense  orchard,  with  its  mossy 
old  apple  trees  giving  promise  of  the  rich  har- 
vest they  would  furnish  a  few  months  later. 
There  was  the  flower  garden,  delicious  with  all 


A    Visit  to  Aunt  Patty.  69 

kinds  of  roses  now  in  full  bloom ;  the  very 
swing  where  papa  used  to  swing  when  he  was 
a  boy,  the  stream  and  pond  where  he  used  to 
sail  his  boats  and  set  up  his  water-mills  ;  and 
beyond  all,  the  large  farm-yard  with  its  many 
outbuildings,  looking  almost  like  a  village  by 
itself;  while  from  one  of  the  great  barns  whose 
wide  doors  stood  open  came  the  cackling  of 
poultry  and  cooing  of  pigeons,  the  lowing  of 
cows  and  oxen,  and  bleating  of  calves,  all  the 
pleasant  noises  of  a  large  and  thrifty  farm. 

The  children  were  all  anxious  to  see  the 
spot  where  the  old  burnt  barn  had  stood,  the 
place  where  Aunt  Patty  had  saved  Uncle 
Aleck  from  the  fire ;  but  all  trace  both  of  fire 
and  barn  had  long  since  passed  away,  and  a 
bright  green  pasture  field,  where  a  flock  of 
sheep  were  feeding,  took  up  the  very  ground 
where,  as  Maggie  said,  "  the  story  had  hap- 
pened.', 

The  children  of  the  homestead,  eight  in 
number,  of  all  ages  and  sizes,  from  cousin 
Ernest,  a  tall  youth  of  eighteen,  down  to  little 


Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 


'£» 


Katy,  the  household  darling  and  pet  of  four, 
were  only  too  glad  to  welcome  their  city  cous- 
ins and  show  them  all  the  wonders  of  the  place. 

They  had  the  most  delightful  summer  play- 
room ;  one  side  of  the  verandah  enclosed 
with  a  lattice  work,  covered  with  flowering 
vines,  where  they  kept  their  bats  and  balls, 
graces,  hoops,  rocking  horse  and  other  toys. 
They  had  a  little  garden  house  too,  where 
they  kept  their  spades,  rakes  and  other  tools, 
for  each  child  had  a  plot  of  ground  for  its  own, 
and  every  fall  they  had  a  flower  and  fruit 
show,  when  their  father  and  mother  gave 
prizes,  not  only  for  the  best  flowers  and  fruit, 
but  also  to  those  whose  gardens  had  been 
neatly  kept  during  the  summer. 

Poor  Fred  with  his  lame  knee  could  not  run 
about  with  the  others,  and  as  he  sat  on  the 
verandah  with  his  cousin  Ernest,  who  stayed 
with  him  lest  he  should  be  lonely,  and  heard 
all  about  the  flower  show,  he  began  to  wish 
that  he  and  his  brother  could  have  something 
of  the  same  kind. 


A    Visit  to  Aunt  Patty.  *j\ 

"  I  dare  say  Mr.  Porter  would  give  us  each 
a  little  piece  of  ground,"  he  said,  "  but  then 
it  is  too  late  to  plant  things,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  his  cousin,  "  it  is  only  the 
middle  of  June,  and  there  are  several  things 
which  you  might  yet  plant.  Then  you  could 
join  us  and  try  for  the  prizes  at  our  show,  and 
I  would  ask  father  to  have  it  a  little  earlier  in 
the  fall,  before  you  go  home.  There  are  lots 
of  seeds  and  plants  that  we  will  give  you  if 
you  have  a  mind  to  try." 

Fred  was  eager  enough,  as  he  always  was 
for  every  thing  new,  and  promised  to  ask  his 
brother  if  he  would  like  to  have  a  garden,  and 
also  to  speak  to  his  father  and  Mr.  Porter 
about  it. 

"  And  your  sisters,  too,"  said  Ernest, 
"  would  they  not  like  to  try  what  they  could 
do?" 

"Oh!  they  are  too  little,"  said  Fred. 
"  What  could  such  a  mite  as  Bessie  do  with  a 
garden  of  her  own  ?  She  might  dig  and  plant 
in  it  to  be  sure,  but  then  she  would  not  know 


72         Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

how  to  tako  caro  of  her  flowers  and  things,  and 
she  would  only  be  disappointed  if  she  failcd.,, 

"  You  and  Harry  might  help  her,"  said  Er- 
nest, "  and  even  if  she  did  not  have  any  fine 
flowers  she  might  gain  a  prize  if  she  had  been 
industrious,  and  tried  as  well  as  she  knew  how. 
It  is  not  so  much  for  the  worth  and  beauty  of 
the  flowers  themselves,  as  for  the  pains  we 
have  taken  with  them  and  what  we  deserve, 
that  father  rewards  us.  Why,  last  year  dear 
little  Katy  took  a  prize  and  for  what  do  you 
think  ?  Why,  for  a  poor  forlorn  zinnia  which 
she  had  nursed  through  the  whole  summer, 
and  which  bore  but  one  scanty  flower." 

M  I'll  tell  Maggie  and  Bessie  then,"  said 
Fred,  "  and  Harry  and  I  will  do  all  we  can  to 
help  them  with  the  work  that  is  too  hard  for 
them.  I  am  sure  papa  will  be  willing  for  us 
to  try,  if  your  father  will  allow  us  to  join  you." 

"He  is  willing  enough,"  said  Ernest,  "in- 
deed he  was  saying  the  other  day  he  should 
like  it.  You  had  better  ask  Mr.  Porter  for 
the  ground  and  begin  directly." 


A    Visit  to  Aunt  Patty, 


73 


Fred  was  so  anxious  to  talk  over  this  new 
plan  with  his  brother  and  sisters,  and  to  ask 
his  father  and  Mr.  Porter  what  they  thought 
of  it,  that  he  could  scarcely  wait  to  do  so  till 
it  was  time  to  go  home. 


vf^f  RT^W  M^TT'  ( ^'"K  ^FTTrTM  W^TK^N 

Si 

IV. 

Z.Eil/  ^4iV£>  DOLLY. 


Ssoon  as  they  were  all  once  more  in 
the  carriage,  and  the  horses'  heads 
turned  homeward,  Fred  told  what 
Ernest  had  proposed.  Mr.  Bradford  willingly 
gave  permission  for  his  children  to  join  their 
cousins  in  preparing  for  the  flower  show,  and 
promised  to  furnish  whatever  seeds  and  plants 
it  would  be  best  for  them  to  have,  in  case 
Mr.  Porter  could  give  them  the  ground. 

"  That  I  will,"  said  the  old  man  readily. 
"  And,  by  the  way,  there's  a  plot  in  the  lower 
part  of  the  garden  that  will  be  just  about  the 
right  thing  for  you.  There's  nothing  planted 
there  yet,  for  I  only  took  it  in  this  spring,  but 
it  has  been  all  dug  and  raked  over,  and  is 
ready  for  whatever  is  to  go  in  it.     I'll   give 


Lcm  and  Dolly.  75 

you  boys  each  ten  feet  square,  and  the  girls 
six.  I  guess  that's  about  as  much  as  they  can 
manage." 

"  More,  I  fear,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford,  "  at 
least  such  little  hands  as  those  of  my  Bessie, 
are  scarcely  strong  enough  for  work  that 
could  raise  any  flowers  fit  to  take  a  prize." 

"  But  we  will  help  her,  mamma,"  said  Fred 
"  and  if  she  tries,  and  cousin  Alexander  thinks 
she  has  done  her  best,  that  is  all  that  is  neces- 
sary." And  he  told  the  story  of  little  Katy 
and  her  zinnia. 

"I  may  try,  mamma,  may  I  not?"  said 
Bessie  earnestly,  "  Katy  is  a  very  little  girl, 
only  four  years  old;  and  I  am  quite  old,  you 
know,  for  I  was  six  last  month." 

"  Certainly  you  may  try,  my  very  old  girl," 
said  mamma,  kissing  the  little,  eager,  up- 
turned face ;  "  and  I  will  do  all  I  can  to  help 
you ;  but  then  if  you  and  Maggie  do  not  take 
the  prizes  you  must  not  be  too  much  disap- 
pointed." 

"Oh  !  no,  and  I  can  have  satis  —  fac — tion 


7 6  Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

in  ray  garden  any  way,  mamma,"  said  Bessie, 
"  in  'tending  to  it  and  watering  it ;  and  then 
I  can  give  my  flowers  to  you  and  Aunt  May 
and  every  one  else  I  love,  and  that  will  be 
enough  of  pleasure  for  me." 

Mamma  smiled  and  thanked  her,  and 
thought  if  her  dear  little  girl  were  to  give 
flowers  to  every  one  who  loved  her  she  would 
need  a  very  large  garden  with  a  great  many 
blossoms  in  it. 

Mr.  Porter  knew  that  Frankie  had  been  in 
the  water,  but  he  had  not  heard  how  the 
accident  came  about,  nor  of  its  after  conse- 
quences; and  now,  as  he  saw  Fred  moving 
restlessly  to  ease  his  aching  knee,  he  asked 
him  how  he  had  been  hurt. 

Fred  told  the  story  of  Frankie's  ducking, 
of  his  own  chase  after  the  mischief-makers, 
and  of  what  had  happened  to  himself. 

"  Whew  —  ew  —  ew!"  said  Mr.  Porter,  as 
he  finished,  "  I  am  sorry  to  hear  this ;  sorry 
enough,  sorry  enough.  Can  you  tell  me  what 
kind  of  looking  boy  and  girl  they  were  ?  " 


Le?n  and  Dolly.  77 

Fred  described  the  boy  and  girl,  as  nearly 
as  he  could,  and  Mr.  Porter  gave  another 
long  dismayed  whistle. 

"  Yes,  I  thought  sc,"  he  said,  "  there's  no 
one  here  about  but  those  two  wiio  would  have 
been  up  to  such  an  ugly  trick  as  that.  So, 
they're  back  again.  I  hoped  we  were  rid  of 
them  for  good  and  all." 

"  Who  are  they  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Bradford. 

"  Lem  and  Dolly  Owcu,  sir ;  as  bad  a  pair, 
and  the  children  of  as  bad  a  father  as  one 
could  find  on  a  long  summer  day.  Poor  neg- 
lected creatures,  they  are  to  be  pitied  too  ; 
but  it  is  useless  to  try  to  do  anything  for 
them,  for  all  help  is  worse  than  thrown  away. 
They  live  in  a  little  tumble-down  shanty  back 
of  the  rocks  at  the  lower  end  of  the  lake,  and 
a  terrible  nuisance  they  are  to  me  and  every 
one  in  the  neighborhood.  The  father  is  a 
drunkard  of  the  worst  sort,  the  mother  long 
since  dead,  and  these  two  children,  liars,  vag- 
abonds and  thieves,  up  to  every  sort  of  wicked 
mischief,  and   a  terror  to  all  the  children   in 


78         Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

Chalecoo.  They  live  as  they  can,  by  rob' 
bing  orchards,  hen-roosts,  dairies  and  corn- 
fields during  the  summer;  picking  up  odd 
bits,  and  stealing  whatever  they  can  lay  their 
fingers  on  in  the  winter,  half  starved  arid 
half  frozen  the  most  of  the  time."     . 

"  Can  nothing  be  done  for  them  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Bradford. 

"  No,  sir  ;  as  I  say,  it  is  not  worth  while  to 
try  to  help  them.  All  that  the  father  can  lay 
his  hands  on  he  spends  in  drink.  My  wife 
was  distressed  about  the  children,  especially 
the  girl,  to  think  she  should  be  growing  up 
in  such  wickedness  and  misery  ;  and  last  win- 
ter she  fixed  up  a  suit  of  warm  clothes  for 
her,  and  coaxing  her  into  the  house  with  a 
deal  of  trouble,  for  she  is  as  wild  as  a  hawk, 
she  dressed  her  in  them,  and  promised  to  give 
her  and  her  brother  a  good  meal  every  day  if 
they  would  come  quietly  to  the  house  and  get 
it.  My  dear  old  woman  hoped  she  might  do 
them  both  some  good  if  she  could  but  keep  a 
hold  on  them  in  this  way.     But  the  girl  just 


Lem  and  Dolly.  79 

took  what  she  could  get  that  day  as  sullenly 
as  you  please,  never  speaking  a  word  of 
thanks,  and  making  no  promises,  though  she 
did  look  mighty  proud  of  her  new  clothes, 
and  hugged  herself  up  in  them  as  if  she  were 
glad  to  feel  herself  in  something  warm  and 
comfortable.  My  wife,  knowing  what  a  thief 
she  was,  watched  her  all  the  time,  and  thought 
she  could  not  possibly  carry  off  anything  ;  but 
somehow  the  sly  creature  got  the  better  of 
her,  and  she  had  scarcely  gone  when  a  china 
plate  was  missed.  Now  my  wife  set  a  deal  by 
that  plate,  for  it  had  been  hers  when  she  was 
a  little  child,  and  the  boys  set  out  at  once  in 
search  of  Dolly.  Well,  will  you  believe  it  ?  no 
sooner  did  she  catch  sight  of  them,  and  gness 
what  they  were  after,  than  she  just  dashed 
the  plate  down  on  the  rocks,  smashing  it  to 
atoms,  and  ran  like  a  deer.  They'd  promised 
their  mother  not  to  hurt  her,  so  they  let  her 
go  ;  but  the  next  day  she  was  seen  in  all  her 
old  rags,  and  we  found  the  new  clothes  had 
been  sold  by  Owen  at  the  next  village.     Of 


80        Bessie  among  the  Mountain*. 

course  they  went  for  liquor,  and  that's  the 
way  everything  goes.  Kindness  is  all  wasted 
on  the  children  ;  they'll  take  what  you  give 
them  with  one  hand,  and  steal  from  you  with 
the  other,  and  then  abuse  you  for  what  you've 
done  for  them." 

"  Did  Dolly  and  her  brother  come  to  get 
the  nice  meal  kind  Mrs.  Porter  promised 
them  ?  "  asked  Bessie. 

"  No,  indeed  ;  they've  kept  clear  enough 
of  the  family  ever  since  ;  not  that  they  are 
ashamed,  but  afraid." 

"I  should  think  they  ought  to  be  ashamed," 
said  Maggie,  indignantly.  "  I  never  heard  of 
such  ungratefulness,  and  Mrs.  Porter  ought  to 
serve  Dolly  right,  and  never  do  another  thing 
for  her  ;  she  don't  deserve  it." 

"  Ah  !  my  little  girl,  if  we  were  all  served 
right,  and  had  nothing  but  what  we  deserve, 
where  would  we  be  ?  "  said  the  old  man. 
"  But  that  did  just  discourage  my  wife,  and 
she  has  left  the  wretched  creatures  to  them- 
selves since.    She  saw  it  was  of  no  use.    Owen 


Lem  and  Dolly.  81 

won't  leave  his  children  a  decent  thing  to 
their  backs,  a  bed  to  sleep  on,  or  a  cup  or 
plate  to  eat  from.  My  old  woman  is  not  the 
first  that  has  taken  pity  on  them,  and  tried  to 
make  them  a  little  comfortable  ;  but  whatever 
is  given  them  just  goes  for  drink,  drink  ;  and 
we  have  all  given  it  up  as  a  hopeless  job.  Be- 
sides, the  children  themselves  are  so  lawless 
and  thankless,  that  every  kindness  that  is 
done  for  them  they  only  turn  into  a  means 
of  mischief." 

"  Does  the  father  ill-treat  them  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Bradford. 

"  Yes,  he  not  only  encourages  them  to  steal 
and  lie,  but  beats  them  when  they  bring  noth- 
ing home  which  he  can  exchange  for  liquor. 
We  often  hear  their  cries  away  up  at  my 
house,  but  there's  no  way  of  stopping  it,  as  I 
see." 

"  And  must  these  poor  children  just  be  left 
to  go  to  ruin  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Bradford,  sadly. 

"  There's  no  one  can  reach  them  to  teach 
them  better,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Mr.  Porter. 
6 


82         Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

"  You'll  just  get  hard  words  and  worse  for 
your  pains  if  you  try  it.     Why,  there  was  the 
clergyman  from  down  in  the  village,  came  up 
to  see  them,  and  he  brought  along  a  bundle 
of  good  things  and  gave  them  to  Dolly  ;  and 
while  he  was  talking  kindly  to  her,  he  got  a 
blow  on  the  back  with  a  big  stone,  and  others 
came  about  him  thick  and  fast.     He  knew  it 
was  Lem,  but  what  could  he  do?     He  could 
not  see  the  boy  or  fix  it  on  him.     And  that's 
the  way  ;  they  are  both  so  sly  and  artful,  they 
are   seldom  or  never  caught   in   the  act ;   so 
though  when  a  melon  patch  or  hen-roost  is 
robbed,  or  some  fine  young  trees  are  hacked  to 
pieces,  every  one  feels  sure  it  was  Lem  or  Dolly 
who   did   the   mischief,  yet  it  is  difficult   to 
prove  it  on  them.     Lem  has  had  more  thrash- 
ings  than  any  boy  of  his  size  that  ever  lived,  I 
believe,  but  what's  the  use?     It  only  makes 
him  worse  than  ever.    Farmer  Grafton  caught 
him  once  stealing  clothes  from  the  bleaching- 
ground,  and  handed  him  over  to  the  constable 
for  a  few  days  ;  but  that  night  his  hay-ricks 


Lem  and  Dolly.  8  ■ 

were  burnt  down.  Folks  first  thought  it  was 
Owen  that  did  it,  but  he  was  proved  to  have 
lain  dead  drunk  all  night  in  the  liquor  shop 
down  in  the  village  ;  and  then  everybody  be- 
lieved it  was  Doll,  and  with  reason  too,  for 
she's  just  bad  enough  to  do  it,  young  as  she 
is.  Last  March  they  all  went  off,  father  and 
children,  and  I  did  hope  we  should  see  no 
more  of  them  ;  but  here  the  young  ones  are 
back,  it  seems.  I  trust  Owen  is  not  with 
them.  If  you  little  ones  come  to  me  to- 
night, I'll  tell  you  what  old  Sol  here  did  for 
that  fellow,  and  how  the  dumb  beast  showed 
himself  the  wisest  of  the  two." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  Lem  and  Dolly,"  said 
Bessie.  "  If  their  mother  had  not  died  may- 
be they  would  not  have  been  so  naughty.  It's 
very  sorrowful  for  children  not  to  have  any 
mamma  to  teach  them  better.  Don't  they 
have  any  one  to  love  them,  Mr.  Porter?  " 

"  Well,  they  seem  to  love  one  another  after 
their  own  rude  fashion,"  answered  Mr.  Porter. 


84         Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

"  It's  about  the  only  mark  of  good  that's  left 
in  them." 

"  I  wish  we  could  do  something  to  make 
them  a  little  better,"  said  Bessie. 

"The  Lord  love  you  for  the  wish,"  said  Mr. 
Porter,  looking  kindly  around  at  her,  "  but 
you  could  never  do  anything,  you  little  lamb. 
Why,  they'd  tease  you  out  of  your  senses  if 
you  went  to  speak  to  them,  and  they're  not  fit 
for  the  like  of  you  to  notice  either.  Just  you 
keep  out  of  their  way  as  much  as  you  can, 
dearie,  or  they'll  do  you  a  mischief  if  they 
find  the  chance." 

Mr.  Bradford  here  began  to  talk  of  some- 
thing else,  and  they  all  forgot  Lem  and  Dolly 
for  the  time.  But  as  they  were  about  half 
way  home,  Fred,  who  was  sitting  in  front  with 
Mr.  Porter,  suddenly  exclaimed,  — 

"  There  are  those  children !  "  and  looking 
before  them,  they  all  saw  the  ragged,  misera- 
ble boy  and  girl  standing  on  a  stone  at  a  little 
distance  from  the  road  side. 

As    the   carriage  approached,   they  darted 


Lent  and  Dolly,  85 

away  into  the  woods,  but  soon  after  a  shower 
of  gravel  and  sand  flying  into  the  carriage,  as 
it  slowly  toiled  up  a  hill  between  two  walls  of 
rock,  made  it  known  in  a  very  disagreeable 
manner  that  they  had  returned  to  annoy  our 
party  by  further  mischief.  They  kept  out  of 
sight  behind  the  trees  and  rocks,  however  ; 
and  when  Fred,  who  was  furiously  angry, 
begged  Mr.  Porter  to  go  alter  them  with  his 
long  whip,  the  loud,  taunting  laugh  which 
rang  from  above  told  that  their  tormentors 
felt  themselves  secure  from  punishment. 

The  carriage  was  soon  beyond  this  narrow 
pass,  and  they  saw  and  heard  no  more  of  Lem 
and  Dolly,  and  reached  home  without  further 
mischief. 

"  Why,  how  long  you  stayed,"  said  good 
Mrs.  Porter,  coming  out  as  they  drove  up  to 
the  door.  "  I  waited  to  feed  the  chickens,  as 
I  promised  the  dear  little  girls  here  ;  but  I  am 
afraid  they  want  their  supper  badly.  Come 
along,  my  darlings,"  and  with  a  pan  in 
each   hand,  and   followed   by   Maggie,   Bessie 


86         Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

and  Frankie,  the  kind  old  lady  went  out  to 
feed  the  fowls. 

"  Margaret  and  Bessie,  come  here,"  said 
Mr.  Stanton,  calling  his  wife  and  sister  to  the 
door  as  they  passed  through  the  hall.  "  Is 
not  that  a  picture  ?" 

A  picture  it  was  indeed,  and  one  which 
mamma  thought  so  pretty  that  she  had  to  call 
the  rest  of  the  family  to  enjoy  it.  Beneath  a 
great  spreading  pear-tree  sat  the  motherly  old 
lady,  the  last  golden  rays  of  the  setting  sun 
falling  over  her  ample  figure,  in  her  neat 
black  gown,  white  apron,  and  snowy  kerchief 
folded  over  her  bosom,  spectacles  in  hand,  and 
in  her  lap  the  pan  which  held  the  corn  and 
barley  ;  while  around  her  were  the  three  little 
ones  dipping  their  chubby  hands  into  the 
measure,  and  scattering  the  contents  among 
the  noisy,  scrambling  crowd  of  fowls,  them- 
selves full  of  glee  and  happiness  at  this,  to 
them,  new  pleasure. 

There  was  one  jealous  old  fellow,  a  pet 
rooster  and  a  great  beauty,  who  would  take 


among  the  Mountains. 


p.  83. 


Lem  and  Dolly.  87 

Jiis  supper  from  no  hand  but  that  of  his  mis- 
tress ;  and  flying  on  the  bench  beside  her,  he 
courted  her  notice  and  a  supper  by  himself. 
Mrs.  Porter  was  about  to  indulge  him,  but 
Flossy,  who  was  seated  by  her,  watching  with 
great  satisfaction  the  feeding  of  the  chickens, 
seemed  to  think  it  quite  unfair  that  he  should 
not  take  his  chance  with  the  others,  and  soon 
chased  him  from  the  bench.  Upon  which  the 
rooster  refused  to  eat  at  all,  and  after  pecking 
one  or  two  of  the  smaller  chickens  pretty  se- 
verely, he  strutted  away  with  his  neck  stretched 
very  straight,  and  expressing  his  displeasure 
in  a  loud  and  by  no  means  pleasant  voice. 
In  vain  did  Mrs.  Porter  call  him  by  his  name, 
"  Coxcomb,"  which  he  knew  quite  well ;  he 
only  flapped  his  wings  and  walked  farther 
away,  screaming  louder  than  ever. 

"  He  is  a  very  naughty  bird,  and  now  he  must 
just  go  without  any  supper,"  said  Maggie. 

"  Ah  !  my  poor  Coxcomb,"  said  Mrs.  Porter, 
11  don't  you  think  lie  is  pretty  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Maggie,  "  he  is  very  pretty  but 


88  Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

he  is  not  a  bit  good.  He  is  not  at  all  '  hand- 
some- is  that  handsome  does — ■  pecking  that 
dear  little  yellow  chicken  !  I'd  rather  be  that 
brown  guinea  hen  who  is  so  nice  and  good, 
even  if  she  is  not  so  very  pretty." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Porter,  "  that  is  the 
way,  all  the  beauty  in  the  world  will  not  make 
us  loved  if  we  are  not  kind  and  sweet." 

The  feeding  of  the  fowls  was  scarcely  done 
when  they  were  called  in  to  their  own  supper ; 
and  when  this  was  over,  our  little  girls  with 
their  elder  brothers  ran  off  to  find  Mr.  Po/ter, 
and  beg  for  the  story  about  old  Sol. 

The  old  man  was  seated  outside  the  kitchen 
door,  enjoying  the  lovely  summer  twilight,  and 
waiting,  he  said,  to  see  if  the  children  would 
not  come  to  claim  his  promise.  He  took  Bes- 
sie upon  his  knee,  and  bade  Fanny  bring  a 
stool  for  Maggie,  while  Harry  and  poor  limping 
Fred,  who  came  slowly  after  the  others,  sat 
upon  the  curb  stone  which  ran  around  the  old 
well. 

"  It  was  just  about  this  time  last  year,"  be- 


Lem  and  Dolly,  89 

gan  Mr.  Porter,  when  they  were  all  settled, 
"  that  I  hired  a  new  farm  hand.  His  name 
was  Ted,  and  he  was  a  simple,  half  witted  fel- 
low, easily  led  by  those  about  him.  I  don't 
think  he  had  much  judgment  or  conscience 
of  his  own,  poor  lad,  but  was  ready  to  do 
either  right  or  wrong  according  as  he  was  per- 
suaded at  the  moment.  Tell  him  to  do  a  cer- 
tain thing  in  a  certain  way  and  he  would  obey, 
unless  some  one  else  came  along  and  told  him 
differently ;  when  he  would  do  as  the  last 
speaker  said,  and  forget  all  his  former  orders. 
He  meant  to  be  faithful,  but  of  course  he  was 
not  to  be  trusted  without  a  good  deal  of  watch- 
ing to  make  sure  he  was  not  interfered  with, 
and  there  were  folks  enough,  bad  boys  and 
girls,  who  were  always  ready  to  meddle  with 
him  and  set  him  up  to  some  mischief,  just  for 
the  bit  of  fun  it  would  make  for  themselves. 
He  was  the  son  of  a  poor  widow  in  the  village, 
who  had  hard  work  to  keep  herself  and  her 
seven  children  fed  and  warmed  through  the 
winter ;  and  Ted,  who  was  ready  enough  to 


go         Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

help  lirs  mother  so  far  as  he  knew  how,  could 
get  no  steady  work.  No  one  had  patience 
with  the  simple  lad  who  was  so  easily  led 
astray  without  intending  to  do  wrong  ;  and 
who  would  come  and  confess  his  mistakes  with 
the  most  triumphant  air,  believing  that  he 
must  have  done  right  since  he  had  obeyed  the 
last  orders  he  had  received. 

"  But  I  thought  with  me  and  the  boys  to 
look  after  him,  he  could  get  along  here,  so  I 
hired  him.  He  was  a  capital  hand  with  hor- 
ses, and  his  work  was  mostly  about  the  stable, 
feeding  the  horses,  rubbing  them  down  and  the 
like.  He  used  to  pet  the  dumb  creatures  and 
talk  to  them  as  if  they  were  human  beings, 
and  it  was  wonderful  to  see  how  fond  they  all 
became  of  him,  old  Sol  in  particular.  He 
would  run  to  meet  Ted,  and  follow  him  about 
the  fields  just  as  your  little  Flossy  there  fol- 
lows you  ;  or  if  he  was  in  the  stable  would 
whinny  with  delight  the  moment  he  heard  his 
step. 

"  Ted  had  a  way  of  curling  himself  up  in 


L*em  and  Dolly.  91 

Sol's  manger  and  going  to  sleep  when  his 
work  was  done,  and  the  horse  would  never  suf- 
fer any  one  to  come  near  or  disturb  him  till 
he  had  had  his  nap  out. 

"  Well,  so  Ted  was  doing  very  well,  being 
obedient  and  industrious,  when  one  day 
about  Christmas  time  my  son  Bill  went  down  to 
the  steamboat  landing  to  bring  up  a  load  of 
stores  which  had  been  brought  from  the  city. 
There  was  a  deep  snow  on  the  ground,  with 
a  prospect  of  more  to  come  that  day,  and  I  did 
not  feel  just  so  willing  to  have  him  caught  in 
the  storm.  A  snow  storm  on  these  mountain 
roads  is  not  a  nice  thing  to  be  out  in,  I  can 
tell  you;  but  some  of  the  stores  were  pretty 
badly  wanted,  and  we  were  afraid  they  would 
spoil,  lying  on  the  dock. 

"  So  Bill  started  off,  taking  Ted  with  him  to 
help  him  load  up,  and  driving  Sol  and  Nero 
before  the  sledge. 

u  When  he  reached  the  village  he  went  to 
the  post-office,  where  he  found  a  letter  to  him- 
6elf,  telling  him    his  favorite  brother  Walter, 


92         Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

who  was  at  college  in  the  city,  was  very  ill  and 
wanted  to  see  him.  There  was  but  an  hour  or 
two  before  the  train  would  be  along,  not  time 
enough  for  him  to  come  up  home  and  go  back 
again ;  so  he  went  to  the  dock,  loaded  up  the 
sledge,  and  giving  the  reins  to  Ted,  bade  him 
go  straight  home  and  stop  for  nothing. 

"  Ted  would  have  done  this  had  he  been  let 
alone ;  but  as  he  came  back  through  the  vil- 
lage, a  lot  of  mischievous  fellows  got  hold  of 
him  and  told  him  he  was  to  stop  at  the  public 
house  and  rest  his  horses  before  they  set  out 
for  their  pull  up  the  mountain.  When  they 
had  persuaded  him  they  led  him  on  to  drink, 
till  he  became  noisy  and  more  foolish  than 
ever  ;  and  when  they  had  had  their  fun  with 
him  they  let  him  go. 

"  As  he  was  leaving,  Seth  Owen  came  out 
with  his  jug  of  whiskey  and  begged  to  be  taken 
up  the  mountain.  Now  I  had  many  times 
warned  Ted  against  Owen,  for  I  knew  he  was 
just  the  one  to  lead  the  poor  fellow  wrong  if  it 
was  only  to  spite  me ;  but  he  told  Ted  I  had 


L,em  and  Dolly,  93 

6ent  orders  he  was  to  take  him  home,  anil  the 
lad  was  persuaded  to  do  it. 

"  I  suppose  after  they  were  on  their  way, 
Owen  drank  afresh  himself,  and  led  Ted  to  do 
the  same.  However  that  was,  the  hours  went 
by,  and  when  Bill  did  not  come  I  began  to  be 
uneasy,  all  the  more  as  by  this  time  it  was 
snowing  heavily.  I  was  standing  on  the  piazza, 
looking  down  the  road,  and  thinking  if  it 
was  not  best  to  yoke  up  a  team  of  oxen  and  go 
in  search  of  my  boy,  when  I  saw  the  sledge 
coming  up  the  side  of  the  lake.  But  no  Bill 
and  no  Ted  were  with  it,  the  horses  were  alone, 
plodding  along  through  the  snow,  and  if  ever 
it  was  said  without  words,  '  there's  something 
wrong,  come  as  quick  as  you  can,'  old  Sol  said 
it  that  day.  We  pitched  off  the  load,  quick  as 
lightning,  and  I,  with  my  other  boys,  started 
in  search  of  Ted.  My  fears  for  Bill  were  set 
at  rest  by  finding,  pinned  to  one  of  the  bags,  a 
note  saying  where  he  had  gone;  for  the  dear 
thoughtful  fellow  had  been  afraid  Ted  would 


94        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

forgot  to  give  it  to  me,  and  so  put  it  where  ho 
knew  I  must  see  it. 

"  Sol  and  Nero  went  straight  ahead  without 
orders  or  guidance,  for  I  just  let  them  have 
the  rein,  thinking  the  faithful  creatures  knew 
better  than  I  did  where  they  should  go.  Half 
way  down  the  mountain  they  went,  and  night 
was  just  beginning  to  fall,  when  they  stopped 
short  in  one  of  the  most  break-neck  places  on 
the  whole  road.  We  looked  about  us,  and 
there,  sticking  up  out  of  the  snow,  was  a 
man's  leg.  We  pulled  him  out  in  less  than 
no  time,  but  it  was  not  poor  Ted,  but  Seth 
Owen.  We  searched  all  about  for  the  poor 
lad  in  vain  ;  when,  seeing  old  Sol  was  mighty 
uneasy,  and  stretching  his  neck  out  as  if  he 
wanted  to  get  free,  I  took  him  out  of  the  har- 
ness, thinking  the  creature  might  help  us. 

"  Sure  enough,  he  turned  about,  and  going 
to  a  spot  where  the  mountain  fell  sheer  down 
a  hundred  feet  or  so,  he  pawed  away  the 
snow,  and  there,  half  on,  half  over  the  edge  of 
the  precipice,  hung  Ted,  his  clothes  caught  by 


l«e?)i  and  Dolly.  95 

a  bush,  and  holding  him  back  from  sure  de 
struction.  He,  as  well  as  Owen,  was  dead 
drunk. 

"  We  were  putting  him  on  the  sledge  when 
I  saw  Sol,  who  had  trotted  back  to  the  place 
where  we  found  Owen,  pawing  away  once 
more  at  the  snow,  snorting  and  sniffing  as  if 
he  were  displeased.  I  went  to  see  what  he 
was  about,  thinking  here  was  some  other 
fellow  buried  in  the  snow  ;  but  as  I  came  up 
to  him,  he  uncovered  the  whiskey  jug,  the 
cause  of  all  this  mischief.  He  smelled  about 
it  for  a  moment,  and  then,  with  a  snort  of 
disgust,  turned  about,  and  dashing  his  heels 
upon  it,  sent  it  flying  over  the  cliff,  then 
walked  quietly  to  the  sledge,  and  placed  him- 
self ready  to  be  harnessed,  with  an  air  which 
said, 'That  can  do  no  more  harm.'  We  lost 
no  time  in  getting  home,  where  Ted,  and  Owen 
too,  were  brought  round  with  difficulty.  An 
hour  more  and  they  would  both  have  been 
frozen  to  death.  So  you  may  believe  we  have 
cause  to  think  much  of  old  Sol." 


96  Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

"  But  how  did  the  two  men  happen  to  fall 
from  the  sledge  so  nearly  in  the  same  place  ?  " 
said  Harry. 

"  We  supposed  they  were  both  stupefied, 
partly  by  drink,  partly  with  the  cold,  and  that 
the  sledge  had  run  upon  the  bank,  causing  it  to 
tip  sideways,  and  they  had  slipped  off,  while 
the  load  being  securely  fastened  with  ropes  had 
remained  in  its  place." 

"  And  did  Ted  ever  get  drunk  again  ? " 
Bessie. 

"  Not  while  he  was  with  me,"  said  Mr.  Por 
ter,  "  and  I  hope  he  never  will  again.  When 
he  was  told  of  his  narrow  escape  and  of  what 
old  Sol  had  done,  he  said,  '  Nice  old  horse, 
nice  old  horse,  he  knew  better  than  Ted.  He 
teach  Ted  never  touch  whiskey  stuff  again.' 
His  mother  moved  out  west  this  spring,  and 
he  went  with  her ;  but  I  think  his  poor  dull 
brain  has  received  a  lesson  it  will  never 
forget." 

"  And  what  did  Owen  say  about  his  jug  ?  " 
asked  Fred. 


Lent  and  Dolly,  97 

"  He  was  very  angry,  and  swore  he  would 
make  me  pay  for  it,  seeming  to  think  little  cf 
the  saving  of  his  life  since  lie  had  lost  that. 
He  managed  to  pick  up  another  one  in  a  day 
or  two,  and  the  lesson  did  him  no  good." 


V. 

THE  GARDENS. 

JESSIE  thought  a  great  deal  of  those 
two  poor,  wicked,  neglected  children, 
who  had  no  one  to  care  for  them ;  and 
when  she  went  up  to  bed  and  had  knelt  at  her 
mother's  side,  and  said  her  evening  prayers, 
she  paused  a  moment  before  she  rose  and 
said, — 

"Please,  dear  Jesus,  send  some  one  to 
teach  Lem  and  Dolly  about  you,  and  how  you 
loved  little  children,  and  let  me  help  them  a 
little  if  there  is  any  way  I  could  do  it,  'cause 
I  am  so  sorry  for  them.     Amen." 

Mamma  laid  her  hand  very  tenderly  on  her 
darlings  head,  though  she  said  nothing,  for 
she  did  not  see  how  it  was  possible  for  her 
gentle  little  girl  to  help  the  two  forlorn  outcast* 


The   Gardens.  99 

upon  whom  all  kindness  seemed  worse  than 
thrown   away. 

"  Yet  who  knows  what  even  she  might  do  ?  " 
thought  the  mother,  as  having  seen  each  little 
birdling  safe  in  its  nest,  she  went  slowly  and 
musingly  down  stairs  to  join  the  rest  of  the 
family,  thinking  as  she  went  of  Bessie's  simple 
prayer,  "  who  knows  what  even  she  might  do  ? 
for  — 

'  Often  such  childish  heart  is  brought 
To  act  with  power  beyond  its  thought, 
For  God  by  ways  they  have  not  known 
Will  lead  his  own.'  " 

It  would  not  be  the  first  time,  as  the  mother 
knew,  that  the  seed  innocently  dropped  by  that 
baby  hand  had  taken  root,  and  brought  forth 
fruit  rich  and  flourishing  in  the  garden  of  the 
Lord. 

"  Maggie,"  said  Bessie,  the  next  morning  as 
they  sat  together  upon  the  piazza  step,  waiting 
for  Mr.  Porter  to  take  them  to  the  garden  and 
give    them  their   plots  of  ground,  u  Maggie, 


ioo       Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

would  you  not  like  to  do  something  for  Lem 
and  Dolly  ?  " 

u  Yes,  that  I  would,"  said  Maggie ;  "  I 
would  just  like  to  give  Lem  a  good  soaking  in 
the  lake,  and  to  make  Dolly's  knee  hurt  just 
as  much  as  Fred's." 

"  But  that  would  be  naughty,"  said  Bessie ; 
u  it's  not  the  way  Jesus  would  like  us  to  do, 
and  it's  not  the  Golden  Rule  that  you  like  so 
much,  Maggie.  I  think  it  is  to  give  evil  for 
evil." 

"  Well,  I  s'pose  it  is,"  said  Maggie  ;  "  and  it 
is  rather  naughty,  I  do  believe,  Bessie ;  but  I 
do  not  mean  I  would  do  it,  only  I  would  like 
to  do  it.  I  think  I'll  be  about  as  naughty  as 
that." 

"  Don't  you  think  you  can  forgive  them, 
Maggie  ?  " 

"  No,  not  quite,"  said  Maggie.  "  I'll  for- 
give them  a  little,  but  I  can't  give  them  the 
whole  of  my  forgiveness.  Why,  they  were  so 
very  bad,  and  did  so  many  mean  things  to  us, 
when  we  did   not  do  a  single  thing  to  them. 


The   Gardens,  101 

Don't  you  feel  a  bit  angry  with  them,  Bes- 
sie ?  " 

u  Yes,"  said  Bessie,  "  I'm  'fraid  I  do. 
When  I  think  about  it  I  feel  pretty  angry. 
But  I  want  to  try  and  forgive  them  enough 
to  do  a  kind  thing  to  them  if  I  have  a  chance." 

"  Oh,"  said  Maggie,  "  we  could  never  do  a 
kind  thing  to  them  even  if  we  wanted  to.  You 
see  they  just  come  and  do  something  bad,  and 
then  run  away,  'cause  their  guilty  conscience 
knows  they  ought  to  be  punished.  And  be- 
sides, Bessie,  they're  not  fit  'ciety  for  us.  The 
copy  book  says,  *  Shun  evil  company, '  and 
mamma  said  that  meant  we  must  not  go  with 
wicked  people.  And  they  are  so  ragged  and 
dirty.  You  would  not  like  to  touch  them  or 
sit  down  by  them,  would  you  ?  " 

u  No,"  said  Bessie,  quickly,  for  she  was 
very  dainty  and  delicate  in  all  her  ways,  and 
the  thought  of  coming  near  the  miserable, 
dirty  children  was  not  at  all  pleasant  to  her  ; 
"  but  maybe  sometimes  we  might  say  a  kind 
word    to    them    without   going   very    close  to 


102        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

,  them ;  and  if  we  showed  them  we  did  not  feel 
very  mad  with  them,  perhaps  they  would  not 
be  so  naughty  to  us.  I  am  so  very  sorry  for 
them,  'cause  they  have  no  one  to  teach  them 
better,  and  no  mother,  and  such  a  bad  father, 
who  tries  to  make  them  more  wicked.  If  you 
ever  had  the  chance  to  do  a  little  bit  of  kind- 
ness for  them,  Maggie,  would  you  not  do 
it?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Maggie,  "  that's  a 
great  thing  to  make  up  my  resolution  about, 
and  I'll  have  to  think  about  it  a  little.  Oh, 
here  are  Mr.  Porter  and  the  boys.     Now  let  us 

go-" 

"Maggie  and  Bessie,  mamma  wants  to 
speak  to  you  in  her  room  before  you  go,"  said 
Harry,  looking  very  full  of  glee. 

The  little  girls  ran  in,  and  there,  oh,  de- 
light !  there  stood  mamma  with  a  tiny  spade, 
rake  and  hoe  in  each  hand.  It  was  quite  im- 
possible to  mistake  who  they  were  meant  for. 
They  were  just  of  the  right  size  for  our  two 
small  gardeners  ;  and  mamma's  look  and  smile 


The   Gardens.  103 

as  she  held  them  out  told  that  they  were  for 
their  use. 

Maggie  gave  a  shriek  of  delight  and  went 
capering  all  about  the  room  ;  and  Bessie's 
bright  smile  and  the  color  which  flushed  her 
cheeks  told  that  though  less  noisy,  she  was 
not  less  pleased  than  her  sister. 

"  Oh,  you  darling,  precious  mamma,"  said 
Maggie,  pausing  in  her  capers  to  examine  the 
pretty  toys,  "  they  are  just  what  we  wanted. 
How  did  you  get  them  so  quickly  ?  " 

"  I  brought  them  with  me,"  said  mamma, 
"  thinking  that  some  day  when  you  wanted, 
something  to  do,  they  might  furnish  you  with 
a  new  pleasure ;  but  I  did  not  think  they 
would  prove  useful  so  soon.  You  must  be 
careful  of  them,  and  not  leave  them  lying  out 
in  the  damp,  or  they  will  be  spoiled." 

The  children  readily  promised,  and  ran  off 
to  show  their  treasures  to  their  brothers  and 
Mr.  Porter. 

Mr.  Porter  soon  measured  off  such  a  squaro 
of  ground  as  he  had  promised  for  each  of  them, 


104       Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

adding  one  for  Hafed,  who  was  much  pleased 
to  do  as  the  others,  and  fell  to  with  a  good 
will  at  digging  and  planting.  Mr.  Porter  also 
kindly  gave  them  such  seeds  as  would  do  to 
plant  at  this  late  season  ;  and  papa,  who  had 
driven  down  to  the  village  with  the  Colonel 
and  Uncle  Ruthven,  came  back  with  a  number 
of  verbenas,  heliotropes,  geranium  slips  and 
other  pretty  things,  which  were  set  out  in  the 
new  gardens.  Nor  was  this  all,  for  Uncle 
Ruthven  had  bought  a  small  watering-pot  for 
each  child,  and  they  had  gone  to  the  carpen- 
ter's, where  the  Colonel  bad  ordered  two 
wheel-barrows,  one  of  a  fit  size  for  Maggie  and 
Bessie,  the  other  a  little  larger  for  the  boys, 
and  these  were  to  be  done  in  a  day  or  two. 
In  short,  nothing  seemed  wanting  to  success 
but  patience  and  industry  on  the  part  of  the 
young  gardeners. 

The  girls  chose  to  have  only  flowers  in  their 
gardens,  but  the  boys  had  some  vegetables  as 
well.     Mr.  Porter  told  them  the  beds  must  be 


The  Gardens,  105 

kept   nicely  weeded,  and  watered   when   the 
weather  was  dry. 

There  was  only  one  fault  which  Maggie  and 
Bessie  could  find  with  their  gardens,  and  that 
was  that  they  lay  at  such  a  distance  from  the 
house  that  mamma  could  not  allow  them  to  go 
there  without  their  brothers  or  nurse  to  have 
an  eye  upon  them.  Not  that  they  were  not  to 
be  trusted  out  of  sight,  but  mamma  did  not 
think  it  safe  for  two  such  little  girls. 

For  some  days  after  this,  the  four  boys, 
Harry,  Fred,  Hafed  and  Bob.  seemed  to  have 
an  immense  amount  of  whittling  to  do.  At 
all  odd  times  they  were  found  with  their 
knives  and  small  strips  of  wood  in  their  hands, 
and  these  bits  of  wood  were  all  fashioned  into 
one  size  and  shape.  But  to  what  use  they 
were  to  be  put  was  kept  a  grand  secret,  until 
one  day  when  Maggie  and  Bessie  went  with 
Jane  to  work  in  their  gardens,  they  found  a 
nuat  little  fence  about  five  inches  high  all 
around  their  plots.  The  kind  brothers  had 
made  this  agreeable  little  surprise  for  them. 


106       Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

"  Our  peoples  are  always  doing  nice  things 
for  us,"  said  Bessie,  when  they  had  thanked 
the  hoys. 

"  Yes,"  said  Maggie,  "  I  am  quite  expecting 
to  be  surprised  all  the  time." 

At  which  the  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Rush,  who 
were  standing  by,  laughed,  though  Maggie 
could  not  see  why. 

Meanwhile  nothing  more  had  been  seen  or 
heard  of  Lem  and  Dolly.  Mr.  Porter  had 
found  out  that  Owen  had  not  returned  with 
them,  and  that  the  two  children  were  alone  in 
their  miserable  shanty.  One  day  when  Mag- 
gie and  Bessie  were  out  walking  with  some  of 
their  older  friends,  they  came  upon  this 
wretched  home,  if  home  it  could  be  called. 
The  rock  against  which  it  leaned  formed  one 
side  of  the  house,  the  other  three  were  of  sin- 
gle boards  nailed  together.  A  square  hole 
was  cut  for  a  window,  but  had  neither  glass 
nor  casement ;  and  the  door  hung  by  one  rusty 
hinge,  which  looked  as  if  it  might  give  way  at 
any  moment.  There  was  no  one  about;  Lem 


The   Gardens.  107 

and  Dolly  were  away,  probably  busied  in  some 
new  mischief  or  theft,  and  our  party  peeped 
within  the  open  door.  No  furniture  of  any  kind 
was  there.  A  heap  of  dried  leaves  and  dirty 
rags  upon  the  hard,  uneven  ground  which 
formed  the  floor,  was  the  only  bed  ;  and  the 
little  girls  drew  back  in  disgust.  Without, 
upon  the  rocks,  were  the  charred  embers  of  a 
fire,  and  over  them  two  crooked  sticks,  and 
they,  with  a  battered  tin  pan,  and  numberless 
bones  and  feathers  which  lay  scattered  about, 
told  that  there  the  ill-gotten  food  was  cooked 
and  eaten. 

It  must  have  been  a  hard  heart  which  was 
not  saddened  by  the  thought  that  this  was  all 
the  home  of  two  young  children  ;  and  Bessie 
felt  more  pity  than  ever  for  Lem  and  Dolly. 
Maggie  felt  it,  too,  and  as  they  turned  away, 
she  whispered  to  her  sister, — 

"  Bessie,  I  never  saw  such  a  dreadful  place 
to  live  in.  I  would  do  a  kind  thing  for  Lem 
and  Dolly,  if  1  could." 

It  was  a  lovely  spot,  too,  but  for  the  signs  0/ 


108       Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

poverty  and  filth  around.  Before  them  the 
mountain  fell  suddenly  away,  leaving  on  two 
sides  a  beautiful  view  of  the  open  country, 
dotted  with  its  fields  and  farm-houses.  Away 
to  the  north  stretched  range  after  range  of 
blue  hills,  till  those  in  the  distance  were  lost  in 
the  veil  of  mist  which  hung  over  their  tops. 
The  woods  around  were  full  of  wild  flowers, 
briar  roses,  delicate  primroses,  and  the  bright 
red  columbine,  and  even  here  and  there,  a 
late  anemone ;  the  little  star-like  flower,  look- 
ing almost  as  if  it  had  dropped  from  heaven, 
and  wondered  to  find  itself  alone  and  solitary, 
°,o  far  away  from  its  sister  stars. 

A  perfect  silence  lay  upon  all  around  ;  not 
a  sound  was  heard  ;  not  a  leaf  seemed  to  stir 
in  the  summer  air ;  not  a  bird  was  heard  to 
utter  a  note ;  and  a  hush  fell  upon  the  party 
as  they  turned  into  the  lovely  little  wood- 
path  which  led  them  homeward. 

Bessie  lingered  a  little,  with  her  eyes  fixed 
far  away,  and  her  head  on  one  side  as  if  she 
were  hearkening  to  something. 


The   Gardens,  109 

"  What  is  it,  darling?"  asked  her  father. 
"  Are  you  not  ready  to  go  ?  " 

"  Yes,  papa,"  she  answered,  putting  her 
hand  into  his ;  "  I  was  only  listening  to  the 
tiitt." 

Her  father  smiled,  and  led  her  on  till  they 
had  joined  the  rest.  They  were  quite  near 
home  when  the  Colonel,  "who  had  fallen  a 
little  behind  with  his  wife,  called  to  Maggie 
and  Bessie. 

"  To-morrow  is  Sunday,"  he  said.  "  Have 
you  found  a  place  where  you  can  have  your 
Sunday-school  class  ?  " 

No,  Maggie  and  Bessie  said,  they  had  not 
thought  of  it. 

"  But  perhaps  Mr.  Porter  will  let  us  have  it 
in  one  of  his  barns,  as  Mr.  Jones  used  to  do 
last  summer,"  said  Bessie. 

"  I  have  found  a  better  place  than  that  for 
you,"  said  Colonel  Rush;  "that  is,  on  a 
pleasant  Sunday.  When  it  rains,  we  must 
find  cover  within  doors.  See,  here,  what  do 
vou  think  of  this  for  a  Sunday-school  room  V* 


no        Bessie  among  the  Mountains 


& 


And  he  guided  them  a  little  to  one  side,  where 
a  sloping  path  and  four  or  five  natural  steps 
led  down  into  a  broad  crevice  or  cleft  among 
the  rocks  which  surrounded  the  lake. 

A  lovely  room  it  was  indeed,  carpeted  with 
moss,  curtained  and  shaded  by  the  green  trees 
which  waved  overhead,  and  furnished  with 
seats  made  by  one  or  two  fallen  stones  on  one 
side,  on  the  other  by  a  ledge  of  rock  which 
jutted  out  at  just  such  a  height  as  to  make  a 
convenient  bench  for  little  people.  The  steps 
by  which  they  had  descended,  closed  them  in 
behind  ;  in  front  lay  the  lake  ;  beyond  that 
again  the  gray  old  rocks,  the  mountain  rising 
bold  and  stern  above  the  peaceful  waters.  No 
glimpse  of  the  Lake  House  or  its  cheerful  sur- 
roundings could  be  seen,  unless  one  peered 
around  the  edge  of  the  inclosing  mass  of  rock, 
and  this  the  Colonel  would  not  permit  the  chil- 
dren to  do,  lest  they  should  fall  into  the  water 
which  washed  at  the  very  foot  of  the  pretty  re- 
treat. 

The  little  ones  were  enchanted,  as  was  theii 


The   Gardens.  in 

dear  teacher,  Mrs   Rush,  or  "  Aunt  May,"  ag 
they  always  called  her  now. 

"  I  thought  you  would  like  it,"  said  the 
Colonel.  "  I  was  strolling  about  this  morning 
when  I  came  upon  this  nook,  and  thought 
what  a  pleasant  Sunday-school  room  it  would 
make.  So  convenient,  too.  See,  this  great 
stone  will  do  for  a  seat  for  May,  and  here  is 
one  for  her  table  ;  while  this  ledge  makes  a 
capital  resting-place  for  you.  Try  .it,  little 
ones." 

The  bench  certainly  did  very  well  for  Mag- 
gie, but  Bessie's  feet  would  not  touch  the 
ground.  However,  the  Colonel  made  that  all 
right  by  rolling  over  a  flat  stone  which  an- 
swered for  a  footstool,  and  Maggie  and  Bessie 
thought  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  desired. 

"  Harry  and  Fred  want  to  come,"  said 
Bessie,  "  do  you  think  you  could  let  them, 
Aunt  May  ?  Sunday  evening  we  always  tell 
them  the  stories  the  Colonel  tells  us  in  the 
morning,  but  they  say  they  would  like  tr 
hear  them  for  themselves." 


U2        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

"  And  Uncle  Ruthven  would  like  Hafed  to 
come  too,"  said  Maggie.  "  He  said  he  was^o- 
ing  to  ask  you.  Hafed  likes  to  learn,  Aunt 
May,  and  he  knows  English  pretty  well  now, 
and  tries  to  understand  all  that  is  said  to 
him." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Rush,  "  they  may 
all  come  if  they  wish,  and  then  we  shall  not 
miss  Gracie  and  Lily  so  much." 


VI 


THE  SUNDA  Y  SCHOOL. 


HEN  Sunday  afternoon  came  they  all 
met  as  had  been  arranged,  in  the  love- 
ly nook   the   Colonel  had  chosen  for 
them.     The  little  girls  were  there  with  Harry, 
Fred  and  Hafed.     Bob  Porter  had  asked  that 
he    might  come  too.     Mrs.  Rush    was   quite 
willing,  but  she  feared  that  such  great  boys 
would    nqt   care    for   the   simple  lessons    she 
taught  to  Maggie  and  Bessie.     She  knew  they 
were    all    too    gentlemanly   to   interrupt    or 
trouble  her;  but  she  thought  they  might  grow 
tired  or  think  it  was  like  babies'  play;  so  she 
told  them  they  might  go  if  they  did  not  like 
it. 

But   she  was  quite  mistaken,  for  they  all, 
even    Bob,  who  was    the   oldest,  listened   not 
8 


ii4         Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

only  with  respect  and  attention,  but  also  with 
great  interest,  and  joined  in  the  lessons  with 
the  best  of  good  will. 

Frankie  was  there  too,  for  he  had  begged 
to  come,  and  had  been  allowed  to  do  so  on 
the  promise  that  he  would  behave  very  well 
and  sit  still.  Sitting  still  was  even  harder 
work  for  Frankie  than  it  was  for  Maggie  ;  but 
he  meant  to  be  good  and  quiet,  and  would 
probably  have  kept  his  word  if  he  had  not 
been  troubled.  For  by  and  by  they  all  found 
that  even  in  this  quiet  nook  they  were  not  to 
remain  undisturbed. 

Frankie  sat  as  far  as  possible  from  Bob, 
with  whom  he  was  much  displeased,  though 
he  had  no  good  reason  to  be  so.  A  short  time 
before  this,  the  little  ones  had  all  been  ploying 
on  the  grass  in  front  of  the  house,  while  the 
grown  people  sat  upon  the  piazza.  It  would 
have  been  thought  that  it  was  not  easy  for  any 
one  of  them  to  get  into  mischief  or  danger 
with  so  many  to  watch  them  ;  but  Frankie 
had  a  way  of  doing  this  which  was  quite  sur- 


The  Sunday  School.  115 

arising.  Never  was  such  a  fellow  for  climb- 
ing as  that  Frankie,  and  his  neck  was  in  dan 
ger  half  a  dozen  times  a  day,  in  spite  of  all  the 
care  that  could  be  taken.  His  mother's  eye 
had  been  off  of  him  for  scarcely  two  minutes, 
when  she  was  startled  by  hearing  Maggie  say 
in  a  terrified  voice,  "  Oh,  mamma,  do  come  to 
Frankie  ! " 

At  the  side  of  the  house,  and  just  beyond 
the  end  of  the  piazza  stood  the  old  well,  which 
supplied  them  with  fresh,  cool  water.  There 
was  a  high  stone  curb  around  it  through  which 
ran  a  wooden  spout,  which  carried  off  any 
waste  water  which  might  be  poured  from  the 
bucket.  This  spout  was  partly  outside,  partly 
inside  the  well,  and  sloped  towards  the 
ground.  The  children,  who  wanted  a  drink, 
had  run  around  to  the  well,  and  were  waitwig 
for  some  one  to  come  and  draw  water  for 
them,  when  Frankie  climbed  upon  the  spout, 
and  before  his  sisters  could  stop  him,  perched 
himself  astride  the  well  curb.  Mrs.  Bradford 
turned    her  head    at  the    sound  of  her   little 


n6       Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

daughter's  voice,  and  saw  them  both  holding 
Prankie,  the  one  by  his  skirts,  the  other  by  his 
leg,  while  the  child  was  struggling  in  a  frantic 
manner  to  free  himself  from  their  hold.  Had 
he  done  so,  he  must  surely  have  fallen  into  the 
well.  Before  any  of  the  startled  group  upon 
the  piazza  could  reach  him,  Bob  Porter  darted 
from  the  kitchen  door,  and  snatching  the 
child  from  the  well  curb,  carried  him,  still 
struggling,  to  his  mother.  Mrs.  Bradford 
thought  it  best  to  punish  Frankie,  and  tying 
the  mischievous  little  feet  together  with  papa's 
pocket-handkerchief,  she  made  him  sit  quiet 
upon  the  piazza  steps  for  half  an  hour.  When 
she  let  him  go,  he  promised  to  do  so  no  more 
but  he  was  not  reasonable  ;  and  instead  of 
being  sorry  for  his  own  naughtiness,  was 
angry  with  Bob,  who  had  carried  him  to  his 
mother,  and  who,  he  thought,  had  caused 
him  to  be  punished  ;  and  now  he  would  not 
come  near  him  or  speak  to  him,  which 
amused  Bob  very  much. 

When    the    children    had    all  taken   their 


The  Sunday  School.  117 

places,  and  had  done  expressing  their  delight 
at  the  pleasant  place  in  which  they  found 
themselves,  Mrs.  Rush  opened  the  school; 
while  the  Colonel  with  his  book  stretched 
himself  upon  the  rocks  above,  until  he  should 
be  called  upon  for  his  accustomed  story. 

Every  child  then  repeated  a  hymn,  except 
Hafed,  who  could  not  yet  master  enough  En- 
glish for  this,  after  which  Mrs.  Rush  asked 
each  one  for  a  Bible  verse. 

"  Can  you  say  a  pretty  verse  for  me, 
Frankie  ?  "  she  asked  of  the  little  boy  who  had 
just  seen  a  fish  throw  himself  out  of  the  lake, 
and  was  eagerly  watching  for  a  second  glimpse 
of  him. 

"  Yes  'm.  Dat's  a  pollywod,  I  dess,"  said 
Frankie,  with  his  eyes  on  the  water. 

"  That's  a  great  Bible  verse,"  said  Fred, 
beginning  a  giggle,  in  which  the  other  boys 
could  not  help  joining. 

"Hush,  Fred,"  said  Mrs.  Rush.  "What 
was  that  nice  verse  I  heard  mamma  teaching 
you  this  morning,  Frankie  ?  " 


n8      Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

"  Suffer  'ittle  chillens  —  dat  is  a  pollywod, 
Fred  —  suffer  'ittle  chillers  to  tome  unto  me  ;  " 
said  Frankie. 

"  And  who  said  that,  Frankie  ?  " 

"  Jesus,"  answered  Frankie,  bringing  his 
eyes  back  from  the  lake  to  the  face  of  his 
teacher,  and  becoming  interested.  "Jesus 
said  it,  and  it  means  me." 

"  Yes,  it  means  you,  Frankie." 

«  And  Maddie  and  Bessie,"  said  Frankie. 

"And  all  other  little  children,"  said  Mrs. 
Rush. 

"  Not  Bob,"  said  Frankie,  with  a  defiant 
shake  of  his  head  at  the  big  boy,  who  had  to 
put  his  hand  over  his  face  to  hide  the  smile 
which  would  have  way. 

"  Yes,  and  Bob,  too.  Jesus  meant  all  chil- 
dren whoever  they  may  be,  or  wherever  they 
are." 

"  But  Bob  is  naughty,"  said  Frankie.  "  He 
tolled  mamma  to  tie  my  foots." 

"  Bob  is  very  good,  and  Frankie  must  not  bo 
angry  with  him,"  said  Mrs.  Rush.     "  Frankie 


The  Sunday  School.  119 

was  naughty  himself,  and  so  mamma  had  to 
tic  his  little  feet  so  that  he  might  remember 
lie  was  not  to  run  into  mischief." 

44  Jesus  don't  love  naughty  boys,"  said 
Frankie,  with  another  reproving  look  at  Bob. 

"  Jesus  loves  all  children,  the  good  ones  and 
the  naughty  ones,"  said  Mrs.  Rush.  "  It 
makes  him  sorry  when  they  are  naughty  and 
forget  what  he  tells  them,  but  he  still  loves 
them,  and  wants  them  to  come  to  him  and 
learn  to  love  him,  and  be  sorry  for  their  sins." 

"  Did  Jesus  say  I  was  naughty  when  I  wode 
on  the  well  ?  "  asked  Frankie. 

"Did  you  not  know  mamma  did  not  want 
you  to  climb  on  the  well  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Rush. 

"  Yes'm  ;  mamma  said  '  don't  do  by  de 
well,'  and  I  did  do  dere." 

"  And  Jesus  says  little  boys  must  mind  their 
mothers  ;  so  he  was  sorry  when  he  saw  Frankie 
disobey  his  kind  mamma." 

"  Is  he  sorry  wis  me  now  ?  I  not  do  so  any 
more,"  said  Frankie. 


120     Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

"  lie  is  sorry  if  you  are  cross,  and  do  not 
feel  pleasant  to  Bob,"  answered  Mrs.  Rush. 

Frankie  jumped  down  from  his  seat,  and 
running  over  to  Bob,  put  up  his  rosy  lips  for  a 
kiss,  which  the  other  was  quite  ready  to  give. 

"  Aunt  May,"  said  Maggie,  "  do  you  think 
Jesus  could  love  children  like  Lem  and 
Dolly  ?  " 

"  He  loved  them  so  much  that  he  came  to 
die  for  them,  Maggie.  If  he  did  not  love 
them,  he  would  not  grieve  to  see  them  going 
so  far  from  him  ;  and  to  them,  too,  he  says, 
'  Come  unto  me,'  and  stands  ready  to  forgive 
them,  and  make  them  his  own  little  lambs." 

"  Perhaps  they  never  heard  about  Jesus, 
and  do  not  know  that  he  loves  them,"  said 
Bessie.  "  I  don't  believe  they  have  any  one  to 
teach  them." 

"  I  am  afraid  not,"  said  Mrs.  Rush.  "  Per- 
haps some  time  one  of  us  may  find  a  way  to 
tell  them." 

"  They  would  not  let  us  speak  to  them," 
said  Maggie. 


The  Sunday   School.  121 

"  If  we  could  persuade  them  that  we  felt 
kindly  to  them,  they  might  listen  to  us,"  said 
Mrs.  Rush ;  "  at  least,  we  could  try." 

"  But  I  don't  think  I  do  feel  kindly  to  them," 
said  Maggie,  "  and  even  if  I  did,  I  do  not  see 
how  we  could  find  the  chance  to  show  it." 

"  I  do  not  say  that  you  will,  only  that  you 
may  find  it,"  said  Mrs.  Rush  ;  "  hut  if  you  have 
a  chance  and  do  not  take  it,  it  will  be  a  jewel 
by  the  way  which  you  will  not  stoop  to  pick  up 
that  you  may  carry  it  to  your  Father  in 
Heaven." 

"  And  Benito  would  not  have  passed  it  by," 
said  Maggie  softly.  "  We  will  try  to  be  like 
him,  will  we  not,  Bessie  ?  " 

When  the  proper  time  came,  the  Colonel  was 
called  upon  and  came  down  among  the  chil- 
dren. His  story  proved  even  more  interesting 
than  usual ;  and  all,  from  Mrs.  Rush  down  to 
Bessie,  were  so  taken  up  with  it,  that  they 
were  not  thinking  of  Frankic,  who  for  some 
time  sat  quiet  between  his  little  sisters,  busy 
with  the  Colonel's  pencil-case  and  a   piece  of 


122      Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

paper,  on  which  he  was  making  scrawls  which 
he  called  "  pollywods."  He  had  seen  some 
pollywogs,  or  young  frogs,  in  the  brook  the 
day  before,  and  his  mind  had  been  quite  full 
of  them  ever  since ;  and  he  was  very  anxious 
to  catch  one,-  and  have  it  for  his  own. 

Suddenly  all  were  astonished  by  a  loud  sob 
and  a  half  angry,  half  frightened  a  stop  dat  " 
from  the  little  boy  ;  and  looking  at  him,  they 
saw  him  witli  flushed  cheeks,  quivering  lips, 
and  eyes  swimming  in  tears,  gazing  up  at  the 
bushes  which  overhung  the  rocks. 

t;  What  is  it,  dear  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Rush  ;  and 
as  she  spoke  Maggie  and  Bessie  both  caught 
sight  of  a  hideous  face  which  thrust  itself  with 
a  threatening  look  from  among  the  leaves. 

"  Somebody  bad  and  ugly,  he  mates  faces 
at  me,"  said  Frankie,  with  another  sob. 

"  It's  Lem ;  I  know  it  is,"  said  Maggie  ; 
<;  and  he  is  making  such  horrid  faces." 

All  looked  up.  No  face  was  to  be  seen,  for 
it  had  been  drawn  back  ;  but  at  that  instant 
down  came  a  shower  of  sticks,  stones  and  dried 


The  Sunday  School.  123 

leaves,  and  the  loud,  taunting  laugh  they  had 
heard  before,  rang  out  from  above. 

This  was  too  much  for  the  patience  of  the 
boys;  even  cool-headed,  steady-going  Harry 
started  to  his  feet  in  a  rage  ;  and  he,  Bob  and 
Hafed  rushed  out  of  the  cleft,  wbile  Fred,  who 
still  had  to  move  slowly,  was  only  kept  from 
following  by  the  Colonel's  express  commands. 

Colonel  Rush  was  out  of  patience  himself, 
but  he  knew  it  would  only  make  bad  worse 
for  the  boys  to  get  into  a  fight ;  and  he  would 
not  suffer  Fred  to  go,  and  called  loudly  on  the 
others  to  return. 

In  the  heat  of  the  chase  they  did  not  hear 
him,  but  he  need  not  have  feared.  Lem  and 
Dolly  had  no  mind  to  be  caught,  and  were  off 
before  the  boys  reached  the  top  of  the  steps. 
Lem  ran  like  a  hare,  and  was  out  of  sight 
among  the  trees  in  an  instant;  while  Dolly, 
finding  the  boys  were  gaining  upon  her,  threw 
herself  upon  the  ground  when  she  came  to  the 
brow  of  a  steep  hill,  and  rolled  over  and  over 
until    she  reached  the  foot,  not  heeding   the 


124       Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

stones  which  must  have  hurt  and  bruised 
lier  as  she  went.  This  had  its  droll  side,  and 
the  three  boys  stood  above  and  laughed  as 
they  watched  her,  though  Harry  almost  feared 
she  would  break  her  neck.  But  she  readied 
the  bottom  in  safety,  and  jumping  to  her  feet 
with  a  loud  whoop  of  defiance,  darted  away 
among  the  thick  woods  of  the  ravine,  and  was 
gone. 

When  the  boys  came  back,  the  Colonel  and 
Mrs.  Rush  tried  to  have  the  children  all  settle 
down  quietly  again  ;  but  the  little  ones  were 
uneasy  and  disturbed,  starting  at  every  sound, 
—  the  twitter  of  a  bird,  the  splash  of  a  fish, 
or  the  dropping  of  a  leaf, —  and  the  Colonel, 
seeing  this,  hastened  to  bring  his  story  to  a 
close,  and  take  them  back  to  the  house. 

When  Mr.  Porter  heard  of  the  new  trouble 
at  the  hands  of  Lem  and  Dolly,  he  said  they 
had  no  right  to  be  there,  for  it  was  his  ground, 
and  he  should  see  it  did  not  happen  again,  for 
he  would  not  have  his  boarders  disturbed. 
He  told  Colonel  Rush  they  had  better  take  the 


The  Sunday  School.  125 

house-dog,  old  Buffer,  with  them  the  next 
Sunday,  and  let  him  watch  on  the  rocks 
above,  so  that  no  one  could  come  near.  Buf- 
fer was  a  wise  dog,  and  if  put  on  guard,  he 
would  not  leave  his  post  till  he  was  told  he 
might  ;  so  now  the  children  felt  they  would 
be  safe  in  their  "  Sunday  bower,"  as  they 
called  the  cleft  in  the  rock. 

When  Mrs.  Bradford  went  up  stairs  with 
her  children  at  their  bed  time,  she  always  read 
a  chapter  from  the  Bible  to  Maggie  and  Bessie, 
and  this  night  she  chose  the  fifth  chapter  of 
Matthew.  She  had  no  especial  thought  of 
Lem  and  Dolly  Owen  when  she  did  so;  but  as 
she  finished,  Maggie  said,  — 

"  Mamma,  don't  you  think  Lem  and  Dolly 
1  despitefully  use  us,  and  persecute  us  ?  '  " 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  think  they  do,"  answered 
mamma,  taking  pains  not  to  smile. 

"  I  am  sure  they  do,"  said  Maggie.  "  I  do 
not  know  if  any  one  could  do  it  worse  ;  for  wo 
never  did  a  thing  to  them." 

"  Then  you  know  what  you  are  to  do  for 


126        Bessie  among   the  Mountains. 

them,"  said  mamma.  "  It  was  our  Saviour 
himself  who  said  these  words,  '  pray  for  them 
which  despitefully  use  you  and  persecute 
you.'  If  we  could  do  nothing  else,  there  is 
still  this  left  to  us." 

"  And  could  that  be  a  jewel  by  the  way 
which  we  might  carry  to  our  Father  in 
heaven,  mamma?"  asked  Maggie. 

"  Yes,  love,  indeed  it  would  be,"  said  her 
mother,  thinking  as  she  spoke  of  Bessie's 
heartfelt  prayer  for  the  miserable  children  a 
few  nights  since,  and  sure  that  it  would  indeed 
prove  a  jewel  bright  and  lovely  in  the  eyes  of 
Him  to  whom  it  was  offered. 

Maggie's  face  looked  as  if  her  little  head 
was  full  of  grave  thoughts,  and  she  went  to 
bed  more  soberly  than  usual,  whispering  to 
Bessie  as  she  lay  down,  — 

44  We'll  take  up  the  jewel  of  prayer,  any 
way,  wont  we  Bessie  ?  " 

Dear  little  pilgrims!  there  were  jewels  in 
their  way  such  as  they  did  not  dream  of;  but 
it  was   only  earnest   seeking   such   as  theirs 


The  Sunday  School. 


i*7 


which  could  find  them;  for  they  lay  hidden 
beneath  many  a  thorn  and  bramble  and  un- 
sightly weed ;  and  they  were  to  be  found  only 
by  the  help  of  this  very  jewel  of  prayer  which 
shone  so  brightly  that  its  light  guided  the  little 
feet  to  the  dark  places  where  the  hidden  gems 
lay 


VII. 


THE    SILVER    CUP. 


SfF3?9^Y  after   day    passed  by   at    Chalecoo 

4  W$A  an(^  eac^  one  seemC(i  to  bring  some 
new  happiness.  A  book  could  be 
filled  in  telling  all  the  children  did  in  this 
charming  place,  of  the  drives  they  took  in  the 
great  rockaway,  of  their  rows  upon  the  lake, 
of  their  walks  in  the  lovely  woods  and  glens, 
and  even  of  one  or  two  wild  clambers  over  the 
higher  rocks  where  the  little  girls  had  to  be 
helped  up  and  down,  and  Bessie  often  to  be 
carried  in  the  arms  of  papa  or  Uncle  Ruthven. 
Sometimes,  however,  the  grown  people  and 
boys  went  on  expeditions  which  Mrs.  Bradford 
thought  too  fatiguing,  or  hard,  for  her  little 
girls,  and  they  staid  at  home  with  grand- 
mamma and  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Rush  ;  for  the 


The  Silver   Cup,  14  e 

startled  at  tho  thought  that  Lorn  had  been  so 
near  them,  and  still  more  frightened  by  Fan- 
ny's excitement.  Bessie  burst  into  a  loud  pas- 
sionate cry. 

''Oh!  make  him  give  it  back,"  she  said. 
"  It's  mine  ;  it's  my  very  own  cup  that  Aunt 
Bessie  gave  mo.  I  will  have  it ;  tho  bad,  bad 
boy.     Oh  !  make  him  give  it  back,  Fanny.  ■ 

Maggie  threw  her  arms  about  her,  and  she, 
too,  burst  into  tears. 

"  Come,  we'll  send  some  one  after  him," 
said  Fanny,  springing  down  from  the  rocks 
and  forgetting  her  open  dairy;  leaving  but- 
ter, cream  cheese,  all,  just  as  it  stood,  she 
seized  a  hand  of  each  frightened  child,  and 
they  ran  towards  the  house  as  fast  as  Bessie's 
small  feet  could  go. 

Mrs.  Bradford  was  not  a  little  startled 
when  they  rushed  in  upon  her,  all  three  ex- 
cited and  out  of  breath  ;  and  Bessie  sprang 
into  her  arms  with  another  outbreak  of  cries 
and  exclamations. 

As  soon  as  they  discovered  the  cause  of  tho 
10 


ia6  Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

trouble,  Mr.  Bradford,  Mr.  Stanton,  and  Mr. 
Porter's  oldest  son  started  for  the  "  Chiefs 
llead  "  to  see  if  they  could  find  the  supposed 
thief  and  recover  the  lost  cup. 


V11I. 


A   KIND    WORD  FOR  LEM. 

HE  path  up  the  mountain  could  be 
plainly  seen  from  below  for  nearly 
half  its  length  ;  then  it  was  often 
hidden  by  many  a  sharp  turn  and  corner,  or 
the  trees  and  bushes  which  bordered  it  on 
either  side.  As  John  Porter  and  the  two 
gentlemen  stood  at  its  foot  and  gazed  upward, 
they  could  see  nothing  of  Lem ;  and  they 
went  on  cautiously,  looking  from  side  to  side 
lest  lie  should  be  hiding  among  some  one 
of  the  many  nooks  and  crannies  of  the  rocks. 
But  they  did  not  find  him  till  they  reached 
the  very  crown  of  the  "  Chief's  Head,"  where 
they  came  upon  him  lying  full  length  upon 
his  back  beneath  the  shade  of  a  pine-tree,  eat- 
ing an  apple.    .  . 


148       Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

They  had  mounted  so  quietly  that  not  even 
his  quick  car  had  heard  them  till  they  were 
close  upon  him,  and  he  caught  sight  of  John 
Porter  turning  a  corner  of  the  rock.  Then 
he  sprang  to  his  feet,  and,  with  a  guilty  but 
fierce  look,  darted  around  so  as  to  bring  the 
pine-trees  between  him  and  his  pursuers. 

But  there  was  no  chance  of  escape  on  this 
bare,  high  point  of  the  mountain.  To  throw 
himself  down,  or  go  rushing  and  scrambling 
over  the  rocks  and  every  thing  else  that  lay 
in  his  way,  as  he  would  have  done  in  another 
place,  would  not  do  here,  where  a  false  step 
or  a  slip  would  carry  him  to  certain  death ; 
and,  in  a  moment,  John  Porter  had  his  hand 
upon  his  collar,  and  giving  him  a  rough  shake, 
ordered  him  to  give  up  the  cup. 

"  What  cup  ?     I  aint  got  no  cup,"  answered 

Lem. 

"  None  of  that ;  give  it  up  now,"  said  John, 
and  plunging  his  hand  several  times  into 
Lcm's  pockets,  he  brought  out,  no  silver  cup, 
but  half  a  dozen  large  bough  apples. 


A  Kind  Word  for  Lem,  149 

"  My  own  Osborn  apples!  "  exclaimed  John, 
quite  forgetting  the  cup  at  this  sight.  "  I'd 
know  them  anywhere.  The  rascal  must  have 
stripped  the  tree,  and  it  is  the  first  year  it  lias 
borne.  I  set  so  much  store  by  them  !  I'll  fix 
you  for  this,"  and  John  gave  his  prisoner  two 
or  three  hard  cuffs. 

"Stop,  John,"  said  Mr.  Bradford,  "  that  is 
not  the  way  to  deal  with  him ;  "  and  speaking 
gently  but  firmly  to  Lem,  he  told  him  that  if 
he  would  tell  where  the  cup  was  to  be  found 
he  should  not  be  punished  so  severely  as  if  he 
still  continued  to  keep  it  concealed. 

But  the  boy  still  declared  he  knew  nothing 
of  any  cup ;  and,  after  hunting  in  vain  for  it 
among  all  the  clefts  of  the  "  Chief's  Head," 
they  had  to  give  up  the  search.  There  were  a 
thousand  places  on  the  way  up  where  he 
might  have  hidden  it,  and  it  was  useless  to 
look  without  some  clew. 

So,  having  picked  up  his  beloved  apples, 
John  Porter  led  his  prisoner  down  the  moun- 
tain, followed  by  Mr.  Bradford  and  Mr.  Stan- 


150       Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

ton.     They  had   nearly  reached   the   end  of 
the    path,    when    Polly    suddenly    appeared 
upon  it.     She  was  about  to   start  aside,  and 
either   run    or   hide   herself,  after   her   usual 
fashion,  when  her  eye  fell  upon  Lem  in  John 
Porter's  grasp.     Now  Dolly  had  heard  nothing 
of  the  cup,  but  she  knew  that  Lem  had  meant 
to  rob  John  Porter's  tree  of  its  tempting  fruit, 
and  she  was  on  her  way  to  meet  him  at  the 
"  Chiefs  Head,"  according  to  his  bidding,  and 
have  a  share  of  the  ill-gotten  prize.     When 
she   saw  him,  she    supposed    that   John   had 
taken  him  prisoner  for   stealing  his  apples  ; 
and  Lem  had  too  often  before  been  in    such 
trouble  for  her  to  think  it  a  very  serious  mat- 
ter.    She  did  not  look  for  any  thing  worse,  as 
the  consequence  of  this  wickedness,  than  a 
whipping,  or  perhaps  that  he  should   be  shut 
up  for  a  few  hours  ;  and,  although  she  scowled 
angrily  at  her  brother's  captors,  she  said  noth- 
ing to  them  or  to  him,  but  turned  and  followed 
at  a  little  distance. 

When  they  reached  the  house,  Mrs.   Brad- 


A  Kind  Word  for  Lem.  151 

ford  came  out,  and  begged  her  husband  and 
brother  not  to  be  too  hasty  in  making  up  their 
minds  that  Lem  had  stolen  the  cnp.  For, 
when  they  had  started  to  go  after  the  boy,  it 
was  supposed  that  Fanny  had  seen  him  take 
it,  but  it  appeared  she  had  not. 

Fanny,  though  kind  and  good-natured,  was 
not  a  very  wise  young  woman ;  and  when 
she  had  rushed  into  the  house  in  such  an 
excited  manner,  she  said  that  she  had  put 
the  cup  on  the  shelf  of  the  little  window, 
that  Lem  had  come  over  the  rocks  at  the  back 
of  the  dairy,  put  his  hand  in  at  the  window, 
snatched  out  the  cup,  and  run  up  the  moun- 
tain with  it. 

Now  Fanny  fully  believed  that  Lem  had 
done  all  this ;  but  she  did  not  know  that  he 
had,  for  she  had  not  seen  him.  Wicked  boy 
though  she  knew  him  to  be,  she  would  not 
have  williiiLily  accused  him  of  that  of  which 
lie  was  not  guilty  ;  but  she  had  spoken  as  if 
Bhc  knew  it  to  be  so,  and  the  two  gentlemen, 
thi nking  there  was  no  time  to  lose  if  the  cup 


152       Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

was  to  be  recovered,  had  at  once  set  out  after 
the  supposed  thief. 

But  when  Maggie  and  Bessie  had  been 
quieted  and  questioned,  their  answers  showed 
that  no  one  of  the  three  had  seen  the  cup  go ; 
but  when  they  missed  it,  they  had  gone  out 
to  look  for  it  behind  the  dairy.  Then  Fanny, 
noticing  the  traces  on  the  rocks,  and  next  see- 
ing Lem  climbing  the  mountain-path,  had  at 
once  concluded  that  the  bad  boy  must  be  the 
thief. 

Next  it  came  out  there  was  another  person 
who  might  have  made  his  way  to  the  back  of 
the  dairy  and  stolen  the  cup,  and  this  was  the 
man  with  the  pack  on  his  back,  whom  they  had 
all  three  seen  going  down  the  lake  road.  This 
proved  to  have  been  a  pedler,  who  had  been 
up  to  the  house,  and  whom  Mrs.  Porter,  who 
never  suffered  such  people  about,  and  who  did 
not  like  the  man's  looks,  had  warned  off  tho 
place. 

Still,  every  one  believed  that  Lem  had  been 
the  thief.     The  boy  stoutly  and  fiercely  denied 


A  Kind  Word  for  Lcm.  153 

it ;  and  Dolly,  when  she  heard  of  what  he  was 
accused,  went  into  a  violent  rage,  crying  and 
screaming,  and  threatening,  if  he  was  not 
allowed  to  go,  all  manner  of  revenge,  especially 
against  the  children,  whom  she  seemed  to 
think  were  chiefly  to  blame  for  this.  Mrs. 
Bradford  and-the  other  ladies  tried  to  comfort 
the  poor,  desolate  child  ;  but  she  would  suffer 
no  one  to  come  near  her,  cursing  and  striking 
about  her  in  a  way  which  made  every  one  fear 
to  approach  her.  Mrs.  Porter  carried  her 
some  dinner,  but  she  threw  it  in  the  kind  old 
lady's  face,  and  then  ran  off  as  fast  as  she 
could.  Mr.  Porter  sent  Bob  and  one  of  his 
older  brothers  to  search  once  more  for  the  lost 
cup,  and  John  Porter  went  down  to  the  village 
to  see  if  he  could  find  any  trace  of  the  pedlcr. 
Meanwhile  Mr.  Porter  said  he  should  shut 
Lcm  up  until  the  next  morning  :  a  punishment 
which  he  deserved  for  the  theft  of  the  apples, 
which  he  could  not  deny,  since  they  had  been 
found  upon  him,  and  the  tree  was  entirely 
stripped. 


r54        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

"  Maybe  it  was  that  which  frightened  him, 
and  made  him  look  so  guilty  when  you  came 
upon  him,"  said  Mr.  Porter ;  "  I  am  sure,  bad 
and  troublesome  as  he  is,  I  hope  it  may  be 
so." 

"  I  wasn't  scared,  neither,"  said  Lem,  sul- 
lenly ;  "  takin'  a  few  apples  aint  no  great ;  but 
I  knowed  for  sure  they  was  after  me  for  some 
harm.  Nobody  ever  comes  after  Dol  and  me 
for  no  good." 

Though  this  was  said  in  a  sulky,  defiant 
way,  there  was  something  in  the  speech  which 
went  straight  to  Bessie's  tender  little  heart. 
Perhaps  it  also  touched  more  than  one  grown 
person  there,  and  made  them  wish,  more  ear- 
nestly than  before,  that  they  might  do  some- 
thing for  these  two  poor,  neglected  children. 

But  Mr.  Porter  was  no  hard  jailer.  Lem 
was  taken  to  a  little  disused  tool-house,  where 
he  was  locked  up,  and  one  of  the  hired  men 
put  on  guard  outside,  so  that  he  might  do  no 
mischief;  Mr.  Porter  having  first  provided  him 
with  a  good  meal,  if  he  chose  to  eat  it. 


A  Kind  Word  for  Lcm.  155 

"  Maggie,"  said  Bessie  to  her  sister  that 
afternoon,  "  did  you  hear  what  Lcm  said  when 
Mr.  Porter  spoke  about  his  being  frightened 
when  papa  and  Uncle  Ruthven  found  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Maggie,  "  and  it  made  me  very 
6orry  for  him,  and  that  thing  came  into  my 
throat  that  comes  when  you  want  to  cry,  and 
you're  afraid  some  one  will  ask  what  you  are 
crying  about. " 

"  I  wonder  if  we  could  not  do  something  to 
show  him  we  would  like  to  be  kind  to  him," 
said  Bessie. 

"  But  he  is  shut  up,"  said  Maggie. 

"  Yes  ;  but  you  know  that  there  is  a  pile  of 
logs  by  the  window  of  that  little  house,  and 
we  could  get  up  on  it  and  speak  to  him,  and 
let  him  know  we  would  like  to  come  near  him 
to  do  him  good.  We'll  go  and  tell  him' wo 
will  ask  Mr.  Porter  to  let  him  out  if  he  will 
promise  not  to  steal  any  more." 

"  Yes,"  said  Maggie,  "  Mr.  Porter  said  ho 
would  do  any  thing  for  me  for  my  birthday 
that  I  asked  him,  if  it  was  reasonable ;  and  1 


156        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

s'pose  he  wouldn't  mind  doing  it  a  little  be- 
fore, and  I  think  this  is  pretty  reasonable, 
don't  you,  Bossic  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  that's  a  very  nice  idea  of  you, 
x>Iaggic,"  said  Bessie;  and  this  being  agreed 
upon,  they  went  off  together. 

The  pile  of  logs  which  lay  at  the  side  of  the 
tool-house  was  not  hard  to  climb,  and  they 
had  more  than  once  played  upon  it  with  their 
brothers,  and  now  they  mounted  upon  it,  and 
put  their  two  little  faces  close  to  the  wooden 
bars  which  crossed  the  small  window.  It  was 
growing  late,  and  the  tool-house  was  rather 
dark,  but  they  could  just  see  the  boy's  figure 
as  he  sat  all  in  a  heap  upon  the  floor.  As  the 
little  light  which  came  through  the  bars  was 
partly  darkened  by  the  two  small  faces,  he 
started  up,  saying  roughly,  "  Clear  out  now !  " 

At  this,  Maggie  ducked,  fearing  she  scarcely 
knew  what :  but  Bessie,  though  she  also  was 
rather  frightened,  held  her  ground,  and  said, 
gently,  — 

"  We  want  to  speak  to  you,  Lem." 


A  Kind  Word  for  Lem.  157 

"  None  of  your  speaking.  Be  off  with  you, 
will  you?"  said  the  boy,  looking  around  for 
something  he  might  throw  at  the  window. 

But  there  was  nothing  on  which  he  could 
lay  his  hands.  Mr.  Porter  had  taken  care  to 
carry  off  every  thing  which  could  possibly  be 
turned  to  mischief. 

"  But  we  are  going  to  do  you  a  favor,"  said 
Bessie. 

u  I  want  none  of  your  favors  ;  let  me  alone 
now,"  answered  Lem. 

"  But  we  are  going  to  do  it  to  you  whether 
you  think  you  want  it  or  not,"  said  Bessie ; 
"  'cause  you  will  be  glad  of  it.  We  are  going 
to  ask  Mr.  Porter  to  let  you  out.  Will  you 
promise  not  to  steal  any  more,  Lem  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  touch  your  cup,"  said  Lem. 

"  Well,  maybe  you  did  not,"  said  Bessie ; 
"  I'd  rather  think  you  did  not.  I'd  rather 
think  it  was  the  pedlcr-man." 

"  Much  you'd  care  who  £ook  it,  if  you  once 
got  it  back,"  said  the  boy,  sulkily. 

"  But  1  would  care,  and  so  would  Maggie," 


158       Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

said  Bessie.  "I'd  rather  —yes  —  I  think  1 
would  —  I'd  rather  be  sure  you  hadn't  taken 
it  and  never  find  it,  than  to  find  it  and  know 
you  did  steal  it.  Yes,  I  would,  Leni,  and  I 
do  love  my  cup  very  much." 

"  Oh !  come  now,"  said  Lem,  "  you  aint 
goin'  to  make  me  say  I  took  it  by  any  of  that 
cant.  Are  you  goin'  or  not  ?  "  and  he  came 
closer  to  the  window,  with  a  threatening  look. 

"  We'll  go  in  a  minute,"  said  Bessie. 
"  This  is  my  Maggie,"  and  she  put  her  arm 
about  the  neck  of  her  sister,  who  had  sum- 
moned up  courage  to  peep  in  at  the  window 
again.  "  Pretty  soon  she  is  going  to  have  a 
birthday,  and  Mr.  Porter  said  he  would  do 
any  thing  she  asked  him  for^  and  so  she  is 
going  to  ask  him  to  do  it  for  her  now,  and  to 
let  you  out.    Will  you  be  glad  of  that,  Lem  ?  " 

"  You  aint  a  goin'  to  make  me  say  I  took 
your  old  cup,"  persisted  Lem,  with  some  very 
bad  words ;  and,  too  much  shocked  to  talk  to 
him  any  more,  the  little  girls  slipped  down 
from  the  logs  and  ran  away. 


A  Kind  Word  for  Lem.  159 

But  shocked  and  frightened  though  they 
were,  they  did  not  forget  their  kind  purpose ; 
and  a  couple  of  hours  later,  Mr.  Porter  un- 
locked the  door  of  the  tool-house.  His  son 
John  stood  by,  a  lantern  in  his  hand. 

"  I  am  going  to  let  you  out,"  said  Mr.  Por- 
ter to  Lem  ;  "  not  that  you  deserve  it,  if  it  was 
only  on  account  of  the  apples,  and  I  did  mean 
to  keep  you  here  till  to-morrow  night  at  least ; 
but  those  dear  little  girls  that  you've  plagued 
so,  have  begged  you  off,  and  I  couldn't  refuse 
them.  So  just  you  bear  that  in  mind,  my  lad, 
and  let  them  alone  for  the  time  to  come,  or 
you  won't  find  me  so  easy  when  next  you 
fall  into  my  hands.  Here,"  and  Mr.  Porter 
put  a  package  of  food  into  the  boy's  hands, 
"  take  this,  and  be  off  with  you.  My  son  will 
see  you  safe  home;  for  it's  an  awful  dark 
night,  and  you  might  break  your  neck  on  the 
rocks  without  a  light." 

Had  Lem  done  as  he  wished,  he  would  havo 
rushed  off  without  waiting  for  company  or 
light;  but  it  was  a  terribly  dark  night,  not  a 


160       Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

star  was  to  bo  scon,  for  the  whole  sky  was 
covered  with  the  black  clouds  which  told  that 
a  storm  was  coming,  and  he  knew  well  enough 
that  he  could  never  find  his  way  home  over 
those  dangerous  rocks,  without  the  light  of  the 
lantern.  John  Porter,  though  a  good-natured 
man,  was  not  at  all  pleased  that  his  father  had 
let  Lem  off  so  easily.  The  loss  of  the  first  of 
his  much-prized  Osborn  apples,  while  they 
were  yet  half-ripe,  had  vexed  him  sorely,  and 
lie  would  have  liked  that  Lem  should  have 
been  severely  punished  for  that  theft,  even  had 
he  not,  in  common  with  the  rest  of  the  house- 
hold, believed  that  he  had  stolen  the  silver  cup. 
So,  although  he  had  agreed  to  his  father's 
wish  that  he  should  see  the  boy  safely  over 
the  most  dangerous  part  of  his  way  home,  he 
did  it  with  no  good-will,  and  trudged  along  in 
silence,  turning  over  in  his  mind  whether  or 
no  he  could  resolve  to  let  Lem  go  without  giv- 
ing him  a  good  thrashing.  But  he  had  been 
in  the  kitchen  that  evening,  when  Maggie  and 
Bessie  had  gone  to  the  porch  to  speak  to  his 


A  Kind  Word  Jar  Lent.  161 

father  for  Lem,  and  lie  had  heard  all  that  had 
passed ;  and  now,  as  he  remembered  how 
sweetly  and  generously  the  two  dear  little  girls 
had  pleaded  for  the  bey  who  had  treated  them 
so  badly,  he  could  not  resolve  to  give  him  even 
a  part  of  the  punishment  he  so  richly  deserved. 

"  The  little  dears  mightn't  like  it  if  they 
knew  it,"  lie  said  to  himself,  "  and  I  wouldn't 
like  to  be  outdone  in  forgiveness  by  two  babies 
such  as  they  are,  so  I'll  keep  my  hands  off  him, 
though  it  does  go  against  the  grain  to  do  it." 

Perhaps  Lem  guessed  something  of  what 
was  passing  in  John  Porter's  mind,  for  he 
took  good  care  to  keep  beyond  the  reach  of 
his  powerful  arm  until  they  reached  the  mis- 
erable hovel  which  served  him  for  a  home. 

"  Well,"   said   John,  raising  his  lantern  so 

as  to  throw  its  light  within   the  crazy  door, 

"  this  is  a  pleasant  kind  of  a  place  to  pass 

such    a   night   as    this    is    like    to    be.      I'm 

thinking  you'd  have  done  better  in  our  old 

tool-house,  my  lad.     Where's  t'other  one  ?  " 

meaning  Dol. 

11 


1 62        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

"  Durtno,  and  don't  care,"  answered  Lem. 

"  Off  on  some  new  mischief,  I'll  be  bound," 
said  John.  "  Well,  good-night  to  you,  if  you 
can  pass  a  good  night  here,"  and  he  walked 
away,  in  haste  to  be  home  before  the  storm 
should  break. 

Dol  was,  alas  !  in  some  new  mischief,  —  mis- 
chief such  as  John  did  not  dream  of;  or, 
although  the  gust  swept  through  the  forest 
and  over  the  lake,  and  the  rain  poured  heavily 
down  just  as  he  set  his  foot  upon  the  thresh- 
old, he  had  not  gone  so  quietly  to  his  mother's 
sitting-room,  and  read  the  paper  aloud  to  her, 
as  she  knitted  away  on  his  next  winter's  stock- 
ings. 


IX. 


DOVS  REVENGE. 

EM  had  told  John  Porter  he  did  not 
know  and  did  not  care  where  Dol  was 
on  that  dark  night ;  but  he  had  not 
told  the  truth  when  he  said  he  did  not  care. 
He  did  care,  for  she  was  the  only  thing  he 
loved  in  all  the  wide  world,  and  had  he  known 
where  to  look,  he  would  certainly  have  gone 
in  search  of  her.  But,  reckless  as  he  was,  he 
knew  that  a  blind  hunt  over  the  mountain  on 
such  a  stormy  night  would  be  worse  than 
useless ;  and  he  could  do  nothing  but  wait 
patiently  as  he  might  till  the  morning  came. 

The  storm  raged  all  night:  the  rain  poured 
down  in  a  driving  flood  ;  the  lightning  flashed  ; 
the  thunder  pealed  without  rest,  echoing  from 
one  to  another  of  the    mountain-peaks   in    a 


164       Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

long,  heavy  roll ;  and  the  wind  blew  in  furious 
gusts,  shaking  even  Mr.  Porter's  comfortable, 
well-built  house,  and  seeming  as  if  it  would 
lay  flat  the  miserable  walls  of  Lem's  poor 
house,  so  that  the  boy  was  afraid  to  stay  with- 
in, and  sheltered  himself  as  well  as  he  could 
beside  the  rock. 

He  was  troubled  about  his  sister.     In  all 
their  freaks,  in  all  their  wicked  doings,  they 
generally  kept    together,  and    stood    by  one 
another,  and  he  had  expected  to  find  her  in 
the  hovel  when  he  returned  to  it  that  evening 
He  knew  well  enough  that  no  one  would  care  to 
take  her  in  for  the  night ;  for,  if  they  did  so, 
they  were  sure  to  suffer  for  it  before  she  left 
the  place  which  had  given  her  shelter.     He 
waited  till  an  hour  or  so  after  daybreak,  when 
the  storm  was  dying  away,  and  was  just  setting 
out  to  look  for  her,  when  he  saw  her  coming 
wearily  up  the  little  wood-path. 

Accustomed  as  he  was  to  her  miserable 
appearance,  even  Lem  was  struck  by  the 
wretched  plight  she  was  in.     The  water  was 


DoVs  Revenge.  165 

dripping  from  her  uncombed,  tangled  hair 
and  poor  rags  ;  her  face  was  pale,  and  her  bare 
arms  and  knees  were  cut  and  bleeding ;  and, 
although  the  morning  was  clearing  up  close 
and  warm,  she  shivered  and  drew  herself 
together  as  if  she  were  suffering  from  cold. 
But  the  wan,  haggard  face  lighted  up  for  a 
moment  when  she  saw  her  brother,  and  she 
exclaimed, — 

"  Oh !  Lem,  did  you  cheat  'em,  and  break 
out?" 

"  No,"  said  Lem,  "he  le'me  out;   and  Dol, 
I  say,  it  was  all  along  of  those  two  little  gals 
They  said  they'd  beg  me  off,  and  the  old  man 
said  they  did,  and  I  aint  goin'  to  trick  'em  no 
more.     Where  was  you  last  night  ?  " 

"  In  the  Ice  Glen,"  answered  Dolly. 

Lem  gave  a  long,  astonished  whistle. 

"  You  aint  goin'  to  say  you  slept  in  the  Ice 
Glen  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  do  no  sleepin',  but  I  was  there  all 
night,  after  I  come  away  from  Porter's.  But 
I  fixed  'em  down  there  fust,"  she  added  with 
a  malicious  grin. 


1 66       Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

"  But  how  came  you  into  the  Ice  Glen ; 
didn't  you  know  better  ?  "  asked  Lena. 

In  answer,  she  told  him  how  she  had  been 
hanging  about  Mr.  Porter's  grounds  till  long 
after  dark,  when  the  storm  broke,  and  she  had 
lost  her  way ;  and,  after  one  or  two  bad  falls, 
had  found  herself  in  the  Ice  Glen  ;  that,  know- 
ing the  danger  in  the  darkness  of  a  fall  over 
the  rocks  or  into  the  lake,  she  had  remained 
there  all  night,  fearing  to  move  till  there  was 
sufficient  daylight  to  show  her  the  way  home. 

"  And  what  was  you  doin'  to  keep  you  down 
to  Porter's  so  long  ?  "  asked  Lem. 

The  reply  to  this  question,  instead  of  being 
received  with  praise  and  exclamations  of  tri- 
umph as  she  had  expected,  was  met  by  a 
curse ;  and  poor  Dol  shrank  down  in  fear  of 
a  blow  ;  for,  though  Lem  was  not  often  angry 
with  her,  when  he  was,  she  was  used  to  feeling 
the  weight  of  his  hand.  But  he  did  not  strike 
her  now,  but  turned  sullenly  from  her,  and 
began  trampling  down  the  wet  grass  with  hia 
bare  feet. 


DoPs  Revenge,  167 

"  What's  come  over  you,  now  ?  "  she  asked 
at  last. 

"  Nothin'.     'Taint  no  odds,"  he  answered. 

"  Aint  you  glad  I  fixed  'em  off  so  ?  " 

"  No :  'twant  fair  after  they  begged  me  off." 

"  They  got  you  shut  up  first,  sayiii'  you 
took  the  cup  when  you  didn't." 

"  How  do  you  know  I  didn't  ?  " 

"  'Cause  I  know  who  did." 

"Did  you?" 

"  No,  but  I  know  who  did  ;  and  what's  more, 
1  know  where  it  is  now,"  she  answered. 

"  Tell  me  then." 

But  Dolly  turned  sulky  in  her  turn,  and 
refused  to  say  a  word  more ;  and  Lem,  know- 
ing it  was  useless  to  try  to  make  her  speak 
when  she  did  not  choose,  strolled  into  the 
woods  to  see  if  he  could  find  any  berries  for 
his  breakfast ;  while  she,  still  shivering  from 
her  night's  exposure  in  the  Ice  Glen,  tried  to 
kindle  a  fire  from  the  wet  sticks  which  lay 
around  ;  and  finding  this  in  vain,  crept  to  her 
wretched  bed,  and  tried  to  warm  herself  there. 


1 68        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

But  it  is  time  to  tell  what  was  the  new  pieco 
of  mischief  by  which  Dolly  had  thus  brought 
punishment  upon  herself. 

Two  little  pairs  of  feet  danced  through  the 
hall,  and  out  upon  the  piazza  of  the  Lake 
House  that  morning. 

"Oh,  what  a  nice,  pleasant  day  after  "the 
rain  !  "  said  Bessie.  "  The  birdies  are  singing 
so  to  tell  us  how  they  like  it." 

"  And  it  is  so  nice  and  cool  after  all  the 
heat,"  said  Maggie.  "  See  !  see  !  papa,  how 
the  rain-drops  are  hanging  on  the  leaves,  and 
how  the  sun  shines  in  them  and  makes  them 
sparkle.  But  what  a  lot  of  leaves  are -lying 
about  over  the  grass !  and  there  is  a  branch 
broken  and  hanging  down." 

"There  is  another  lying  by  the  well,"  said 
Bessie,  "  and  those  large  bushes  are  all  lean- 
ing over.     Did  the  rain  do  that,  papa  ?  " 

"  The  wind  did  it,"  said  papa.  "  The  storm 
was  very  severe  last  night,  and  I  fear  it 
may  have  done  some  harm  to  the  farm  and 
garden." 


DoVs  Revenge.  169 

"  Not  to  our  gardens,  I  hope,"  said  Maggie. 
"  They  looked  so  nicely  yesterday,  and  Cousin 
Alexander  is  coming  up  to-day  to  see  them ; 
and  if  the  storm  did  hurt  them,  we  won't  have 
time  to  fix  them  up  again  before  he  comes." 

"  If  my  garden  was  mussed  up  a  little  bit, 
I  shouldn't  mind  it  so  very  much,  if  only  my 
dear  heliotrope  is  not  hurt,"  said  Bessie.  * 

"  And  my  geranium,"  said  Maggie.  "  We 
would  be  too  disappointed  if '  any  thing  hap- 
pened to  those  two.  Papa,  do  you  know 
when  Cousin  Ernest  was  here  the  other  day, 
he  said  not  one  of  the  children  had  such  a 
fine  heliotrope  or  geranium,  and  he  thought 
they  were  sure  to  take  prizes  ?  and  besides,  he 
said  onr  gardens  were  so  neatly  kept  it  was  a 
pleasure  to  look  at  them." 

"  Yes,"  said  papa :  "  you  have  been  very 
industrious  and  persevering,  and  deservo 
much  praise.     Here  comes  Mr.  Porter." 

"  What  a  terrible  night  it  has  been,"  said 
Mrs.  Bradford,  coming  out  at  that  moment. 
"  I  could  not  sleep  for  the  noise  of  the  thun- 


17c?       Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

der  and  the  wind.  I  wonder  what  those  two 
forlorn  children  have  done  :  that  wretched  hut 
could  be  but  poor  protection  on  such  a  night. " 

"  Better  than  they  deserve,"  growled  Mr. 
Porter,  in  a  tone  very  unusual  with  him,  com- 
ing up  the  piazza  steps  as  Mrs.  Bradford  spoke. 
"  Good-morning,  madam.  A  bad  night's  work 
this.  I've  just  been  round  with  the  boys  to 
see  what  damage  has  been  done." 

"  Not  much  I  hope,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford. 

"  Well,  not  so  much  from  the  storm,"  said 
Mr.  Porter.  "  The  corn  is  beaten  down  a 
little,  but  it  will  rise  again  in  a  day  or  two, 
and  some  branches  here  and  there  stripped  off; 
but  there's  been  worse  than  the  wind  and  rain 
abroad  last  night.  Mr.  Bradford,  I'll  speak 
with  you  a  minute,  sir." 

Mr.  Bradford  walked  aside  with  the  old 
man,  who  said  to  him  in  a  low  voice, — 

"  There's  a  sore  trouble  in  store  for  those 
little  dears,  and  I  hadn't  the  heart  to  tell 
fliein  myself.  You'll  know  best  how  to  do 
it.     Their  gardens  are  all  destroyed,  root  and 


DoVs  Revenge.  171 

.branch;  not  a  thing  left.  Their  pet  plants, 
the  heliotrope  and  geranium  that  they  set  so 
much  store  by,  are  rooted  up  and  torn  to  bits, 
not  a  piece  left  as  big  as  my  hand.  And  it  was 
not  the  storm  either  that  did  it,  but  just  those 
wicked  children,  Lem  and  Dolly,  or  one  of 
them.  I  don't  think  it  could  have  been  the 
boy,  for  I  don't  see  how  he  could  have  found 
his  way  down  here  again  last  night  after  John 
saw  him  home ;  but,  alone  or  together,  the 
girl  has  had  a  hand  in  it  for  sure.  John 
picked  up  a  dirty  old  sunbonnet  she  used  to 
wear,  lying  right  in  Bessie's  garden,  and  he 
says  she  was  not  at  home  wThen  he  went  up 
with  Lem  last  night.  She's  done  it  out  of 
revenge  for  his  being  shut  up,  and  I  wish 
Buffer  had  caught  her  at  it,  so  I  do.  My 
patience  is  quite  at  an  end,  and  I'll  have  them 
routed  out  of  that  place,  and  sent  off  some- 
where, as  sure  as  my  name  is  Thomas 
Porter." 

Mr.  Bradford  was  very  much  troubled,  for 
he   knew   how  greatly  the   children  would   be 


172        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

distressed ;  and,  as  the  breakfast-bell  rang 
just  then,  he  said  he  should  not  tell  them  till 
the  meal  was  over,  or  no  breakfast  would  be 
eaten  by  Maggie  or  Bessie.  He  could  scarcely 
eat  his  own  as  he  watched  the  bright  faces  of 
his  two  little  daughters,  and  thought  what  a 
different  look  they  would  wear  when  they 
heard  the  bad  news. 

It  was  as  he  had  feared :  their  grief  was 
distressing  to  see,  all  the  more  so  when  they 
found  who  had  done  this  injury  to  them. 
Their  father  had  wished  to  keep  this  secret, 
but  they  begged  so  to  go  and  see  the  gardens, 
that  he  thought  it  best  to  take  them  and  let 
them  know  the  worst  at  once  ;  and  they  were 
so  astonished  when  they  saw  the  utter  desola 
tion  of  their  own  beds,  and  the  difference 
between  them  and  those  which  lay  around, 
and  asked  so  many  questions,  that  he  was 
obliged  to  tell  them. 

The  two  brothers,  with  Hafed  and  Bob,  were 
already  on  the  spot,  spades  and  rakes  in  hand, 
to  see  what  could  be  done ;  but,  alas !  there 
was  little  or  nothing. 


DoTs  Revenge.  173 

It  was  indeed  sad  to  see  the  ruin  of  what 
had,  but  yesterday,  looked  so  neat  and  pretty. 
The  tiny  fences  were  pulled  up,  and  scattered 
far  and  wide ;  lady-slippers,  mignonette,  ver- 
benas, and  all  the  other  simple  flowers  which 
had  flourished  so  well,  and  given  such  pride 
and  delight  to  the  little  gardeners,  were  rooted 
up  and  trampled  into  the  earth ;  and,  worse 
than  all,  the  beloved  heliotrope  and  geranium 
were  torn  leaf  from  leaf  and  sprig  from  sprig, 
while  their  main  stems  had  been  twisted  and 
bent,  till  no  hope  remained  that  even  these 
could  be  revived. 

The  boys'  gardens  had  suffered  some,  but 
not  so  much  as  those  of  the  little  girls ; 
whether  it  was  that  Dolly  fancied  Maggie  and 
Bessie  had  been  the  most  to  blame  for  Lem's 
imprisonment,  and  so  chose  first  to  revenge 
herself  on  them ;  whether  it  was  that  their 
gardens  lay  nearer  to  her  hand  and  she  had 
been  interrupted  in  her  wicked  work  before 
she  had  quite  destroyed  the  boys',  —  could 
not  be  known. 


174       Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

The  grief  of  the  children  was  pitiful  to  see. 
Bessie's  could  not  find  words,  but  she  clung 
about  her  father's  neck,  and  sobbed  so  violently 
that  he  feared  she  would  be  ill,  and  carried  her 
back  to  the  house  to  see  if  mamma  could  not 
comfort  her.  Maggie's  was  not  less  violent,- 
but  it  was  more  outspoken,  and  she  said  and 
thought  many  angry  things  of  Lem  and  Dolly, 
as  she  gathered  up  the  bruised  leaves  and 
stalks  of  her  own  geranium  and  Bessie's 
heliotrope.  The  boys  were  quite  ready  to  join 
her  in  all,  and  more  than  all,  that  she  said. 

H  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  that,  pet?" 
asked  Uncle  Ruthven,  coming  down  to  see  the 
ruin,  and  finding  Maggie  sitting  on  an  up- 
turned flower-pot,  her  hot  tears  still  falling  on 
the  remains  of  the  two  favorite  plants. 

"  Oh  !  Uncle  Ruthven  !  "  sobbed  poor  Mag- 
gie, "I  could  not  bear  to  see  them  lying  there 
in  the  mud  and  dirt.  It  seems  to  me  'most 
as  if  they  were  something  live,  and  we  were 
so  fond  of  them.  I  don't  think  I  can  bear  it. 
And,  oh  !   I  am  so  sorry  we  asked  Mr.  Porter 


DoVs  Revenge.  175 

to  let  Lcm  out,  just  so  he  could  do  this,—  the 
bad,  wicked  boy  !  " 

"  I  do  not  think  it  was  Lem's  doing,  dear," 
said  Mr.  Stanton ;  and  then  he  told  Maggie 
how  John  Porter  had  taken  Lem  home  last 
night  just  before  the  storm  began,  and  that  it 
was  scarcely  possible  that  the  boy  could  have 
made  his  way  back  in  the  darkness  and 
worked  all  this  mischief. 

"  Well,  it  was  Dolly,  then,"  said  Maggie ; 
"  and  I  can  never,  never  forgive  her :  no, 
never,  Uncle  Ruthven." 

Uncle  Ruthven  would  not  argue  with  her, 
or  try  to  persuade  her  to  feel  less  hardly 
towards  Dolly  now :  he  knew  it  was  not  the 
time ;  the  wound  was  too  fresh,  the  little  heart 
still  too  sore.  Nor  did  he  think  it  worth 
while  to  try  and  make  her  forget  the  trouble 
yet,  but  talked  to  her  about  it  in  an  interested 
but  soothing  manner,  till  at  last  he  led  her 
back  to  her  mother  in  a  more  quiet,  gentle 
mood  than  he  had  found  her. 

Meanwhile  the  boys  ha  1  all  four  set  to  work 


176        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

with  a  good  will  to  try  what  they  could  do  to 
make  the  poor  gardens  look  somewhat  less 
forlorn.  It  was  too  late  in  the  season  to  think 
of  planting  new  seeds  or  roots ;  and  the  flow- 
ers which  had  been  torn  up  were  too  entirely 
destroyed  ever  to  revive  again. 

Hafed  would  have  taken  up  every  flower  from 
his  own  garden  and  transplanted  it  to  those  of 
his  "  Missy's,"  if  the  other  boys  had  not  made 
him  understand  that  this  would  be  useless, 
and  most  of  them  would  only  droop  and  die. 

The  disordered  beds  were  raked  smoothly 
over ;  the  little  fence  carefully  cleaned  from 
the  mud  which  covered  it,  and  set  up  again ; 
and  all  the  withered,  bruised  flowers  and 
leaves  carried  away.  Then  came  John  Porter 
and  his  brothers,  bringing  a  dozen  or  so  of 
flowering  shrubs  in  pots,  which  were  neatly  set 
out,  taking  from  the  gardens  the  desolate  look 
they  had  worn.  Next,  some  bright  lady-slip- 
pers, sweet  pinks  and  other  late  summer 
flowers  were  taken  up  with  plenty  of  earth 
about  their  roots  so  that  they  might  not  droop, 


DoPs  Revenge.  177 

and  they  too,  were  put  down  in  their  new 
home. 

When  all  was  done,  the  little  girls  were 
called  down  to  see  the  improvement  that  had 
been  made.  They  thanked  the  boys  very 
heartily ;  but,  in  spite  of  all  the  pains  that 
had  been  taken,  the  gardens  were  not  the 
same  they  had  been  before,  not  the  work  of 
their  own  hands,  the  gardens  they  had  watched 
and  tended  for  the  last  six*  or  seven  weeks. 

"  Besides,"  said  Maggie,  with  a  mournful 
si  lake  of  her  head,  "  our  own  dear  heliotrope 
and  geranium  are  quite  gone,  so  we  need  not 
hope  for  any  prize.  It  is  too  late  now  to  try 
with  any  thing  else,  and  we  couldn't  expect 
Cousin  Alexander  to  give  us  one  when  we 
have  nothing  to  show  that  we  have  taken  care 
of  ourselves." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Fred, 
"  Cousin  Alexander  came  down  here  this  morn- 
ing ;  and,  although  he  did  not  mention  the 
word  prize,  he  said  he  thought  he  ought   to 

take  into  account  all  you  had  done,  as  well  as 
12 


178       Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

what  you  might  have  done,  and  asked  us  if 
we  did  not  agree  with  him.  Of  course  wo 
said  yes  ;  so  we  shall  see  what  he  will  do." 

But  not  all  the  petting  and  coaxing  they 
received,  or  all  the  new  amusements  provided 
for  them,  could  make  Maggie  and  Bessie  for- 
get their  ruined  gardens,  or  recover  their 
usual  spirits  that  day.  Indeed  it  was  rather  a 
mournful  day  for  the  whole  family.  The 
melancholy  faces  of  the  two  little  girls  grieved 
their  older  friends  ;  and,  besides,  it  was  sad  to 
know  that  children  like  Lem  and  Dolly  should 
take  delight  in  such  wicked,  wanton  mischief, 
and  to  know  that  there  seemed  to  be  no  way 
to  do  them  good  ;  since  they  only  came  near 
those  who  were  weaker  and  younger  than  them- 
selves to  do  them  harm,  and  ran  from  those 
who  were  older  and  wiser,  in  fear  of  the  punish- 
ment and  reproof  their  wickedness  deserved. 
Neither  by  kindness  nor  severity  did  it  seem 
possible  to  reach  these  poor  creatures. 

Mr.  Porter  said  that  one  of  the  dogs  should 
be  fastened  in  the  garden  for  a  few  nights,  till 


DoVs  Revenge.  179 

he  should  see  what  might  be  done  about  hav- 
ing Lem  and  Dolly  removed  to  some  place 
where  they  could  give  no  more  annoyance  to 
himself  and  his  boarders. 

"  My  darlings,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford  that 
night,  when  she  had  gone  upstairs  with  the 
children,  "  what  are  you  going  to  do  now  ?  " 

"  To  say  our  prayers,  mamma,"  answered 
Bessie,  rather  surprised  at  the  question. 

"  What  prayers,  Maggie  ?  " 

"  Why,  '  Now  I  lay  me,'  and  '  Pray  God 
bless,'  and  '  Our  Father  which  art  in  Heav- 
en,' "  said  Maggie. 

"  And  when  we  say  l  Our  Father,'  what  do 
we  say  about  forgiveness  ?  " 

" '  Forgive  us  our  trespasses  as  we  forgive 
those  who  trespass  against  us,' "  said  Bessie. 
"  I  know  what  you  mean,  mamma." 

"  And  so  do  I,"  said  Maggie  ;  "  but  I  cannot 
do  it,  mamma,  I  cannot  forgive  Lem  and  Dolly 
as  I  want  to  be  forgiven  myself,  so  I  think  I 
had  better  leave  out  that  part  of '  Our  Father,' 
to-night.     I  wouldn't  like  to  pray  a  story." 


1 80       Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

"  Nor  would  I  wish  you  to  say  what  you  did 
not  feel,  dearie,  but  I  should  like  you  to  pray 
that  from  your  heart." 

"  But  I  could  not,  mamma,"  said  Maggie. 
"  Why,  we  have  forgiven  Lem  and  Dolly  so 
often,  and  it  is  not  a  bit  of  use." 

"  Do  you  remember  what  I  was  reading  to 
you  the  other  night  ?  "  said  mamma,  "  how 
Peter  came  to  our  Lord,  and  asked  Him  how 
often  he  should  forgive  his  enemy.  What 
answer  did  Jesus  make  ?  " 

"He  said  'forgive  him  till  seventy  times 
seven,' "  said  Bessie. 

"0  mamma!"  said  Maggie.  "I  never 
could  do  that.  I  think  I  could  be  like  Peter, 
and  forgive  Lem  and  Dolly  seven  times ;  but 
every  time  I  do  it,  it  grows  harder  and  harder, 
and  I  never  could  do  it  by  the  time  it  was 
seventy  times  seven.  That  is  such  a  lot!  Every 
bit  of  forgiveness  in  me  would  be  used  up  by 
that  time." 

"  Our  Lord  only  said  '  seventy  times  seven/ 
to  show  that  we  must  forgive  a  great  number 


DoFs  Revenge.  1S1 

of  times,  Maggie.  He  did  not  mean  to  meas- 
ure our  forgiveness  any  more  than  He 
measures  His  own.  He  is  ready  to  pardon 
all  who  go  to  Him,  as  often  and  as  freely  as 
they  need.  Bat  we  must  ask  Him  from  our 
hearts ;  and  can  we  do  so  if  those  hearts  are 
full  of  unkindness  and  hard  feeling  towards 
those  who  have  injured  us  ?  I  know  how  hard 
it  is  for  you  both,  my  darlings ;  I  know  by  my 
own  feelings  how  hard  it  is  to  forgive  Lem 
and  Dolly ;  but  I  cannot  hope  to  be  forgiven 
myself  for  what  I  have  done  wrong  this  day, 
unless  I  forgive  them  the  harm  they  have 
done  to  me." 

"They  did  not  harm  you,  mamma,  did 
they  ?  "  asked  Maggie. 

"  Yes :  they  hurt  my  two  little  blossoms, 
Maggie  and  Bessie,  and  so  grieved  me  very 
much.  But  I  can  hope  my  flowers  will  soon 
get  the  better  of  the  harm  they  have  received; 
not  only  of  their  sorrow,  but  also  of  their 
anger  and  hard  feeling  towards  those  poor, 
unhappy  children.     Suppose  you  had  at  this 


1 82       Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

moment  a  chance  to  do  a  kind  thing,  or  speak 
a  kind  word  to  Lem  and  Dolly,  —  would  either 
of  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  Mamma,"  said  Bessie,  "  I  think  I  would. 
It  would  be  very  hard,  and  I'm  afraid  I 
wouldn't  quite  like  to  do  it ;  but  I  would  try  to 
think  how  often  Jesus  forgave  me,  and  I  would 
say,  '  forgive  me  my  trespasses '  as  I  forgive 
Lem  and  Dolly,  and  maybe  that  would  make 
it  easier." 

"It  will  indeed,  my  darling ;  and  what  does 
my  Maggie  say  ?  " 

"  I'll  try  too,  mamma —  but — but — I  can't 
help  thinking  I'd  be  pretty  glad  if  the  chance 


X. 


THE  BANANAS, 


«  (^ 


ADDIE."  said  Frankie,  running  up 
KKmSkI     to  his  sister  the  next  morning  with 
oi    worsted    reins   in   his 


a    pair 
hands,  "  will  oo  fis  my  weins  ?  " 

"  Pretty  soon,  Frankie :  I'm  busy  now," 
answered  Maggie. 

"  Oo're  not :  oo're  doin'  nossin'  but  sittin,,,, 
said  the  little  boy.     "  Do  it  now." 

"Yes  ;  I  am  in  a  meditation,  and  you  must 
not  interrupt  me,"  said  Maggie,  with  a  solemn, 
important  face. 

Frankie  walked  round  and  round  her  on 
every  side,  looking  curiously  at  her,  and  peer- 
ing down  at  her;  then  said, — 

"  I  don't  see  it,  Maddie." 

"  Don't  see  what  ?  "  asked  Maggie. 


184        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

"  Dat  sing  00  are  in,"  replied  Frankie. 
"He   means  that  meditation  you  said  you 
were  in,"  said  Bessie. 

At  this  Maggie  laughed  merrily,  and  all  her 
meditations  were  put  to  flight. 

"  0  foolish  child  !  "  she  said.  "  I  s'pose 
he  thought  a  meditation  meant  a  kind  of  a 
thing  you  could  see." 

"Maggie,"  said  Bessie  gravely,  "if  you 
laugh  at  Frankie,  you'll  have  to  laugh  at  me 
too,  'cause  I  don't  know  what  a  meditation 
means  either." 

"  It  means,"  said  Maggie,  arranging  Frank- 
ie's  reins  for  him,  "to  be  thinking  about 
whether  a  thing  is  right  or  wrong,  and  to  be 
trying  to  make  up  your  resolution  to  do  some- 
thing that  you  know  you  ought  to  do,  but  that 
you  don't  want  to  do." 

"  Oh  1  "  said  Bessie  in  a  very  satisfied  tone  ; 
"  then  I  know  what  you  was  having  a  medita- 
tion about.  And  how  did  you  make  up  your 
resolution,  Maggie  ?  " 

"  Oh !  just  to  forgive  Lem  and  Dolly  with- 


The  Bananas.  185 

out  any  more  fuss  about  it,"  said  Maggie. 
"  But  for  all  that,  Bessie,  I  would  like  never 
to  bear  or  see  or  think  or  know  or  dream  any 
thing  more  about  those  two  children. " 

"  Who  would  like  to  go  and  play  in  the 
woods  ?  "  asked  Harry,  coming  out  to  them. 
"  Mamma  says  we  may  all  go  if  we  choose. " 

"  I  will." 

"Andl." 

"  I  too,"  came  from  his  two  sisters  and 
Frankie. 

"  Who  is  going  to  take  care  of  us  ?  "  asked 
Bessie. 

"  Jane  and  Starr,"  said  Harry.  "  Fred  and 
I  could  do  it  well  enough ;  but  mamma  is 
afraid  of  those  two  ragamuffins,  and  the 
Colonel  said  they  would  not  dare  to  trouble 
us  if  Starr  was  with  us,  and  he  could  very 
well  spare  him." 

"  Hurrah  !  "  cried  Fred,  rushing  out  of  the 
house.  "  Papa,  Uncle  Ruthven,  Aunt  Bessie, 
and  Aunt  Annie  are  going  with  us,  and  we 
are  going  to  have  a  grand  corn-roasting  up  in 


i86        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

the  woods  ;  hurrah  !  hurrah  ! "  and  Fred  tossed 
his  cap  in  the  air,  and  turned  two  or  three 
somersets  on  the  grass,  which  Frankie 
immediately  tried  to  imitate,  but  only  suc- 
ceeded in  tumbling  over  on  his  side.  He  was 
quite  contented  with  his  own  performance, 
however,  and  said,  with  a  self-satisfied  shake 
of  his  head,  "  I  somersat  mysef  fee  times." 

The  party  were  soon  ready,  and  started  off, 
grandmamma  and  mamma,  Colonel  and  Mrs. 
Rush  promising  to  follow  by  and  by  when  the 
fire  should  be  made,  -and  the  roasted  corn 
nearly  ready  for  eating. 

Butter  and  salt  were  packed  in  a  tin  pail 
by  Mrs.  Porter  and  carried  by  Hafed,  while 
Starr  brought  a  basket  with  plates  and  knives. 
The  corn  was  to  be  plucked  from  a  cornfield 
which  they  would  pass  on  their  way.  The 
spot  chosen  was  at  some  distance  from  the 
house,  up  in  the  woods,  where  a  pure,  bright 
spring  bubbled  up  from  the  rocks,  and  then 
went  rippling  and  singing  away  in  one  of 
those  hundred  mountain  streams.     Here  was 


The  Bananas,  187 

a  little  cleared  space  among  the  trees,  and  a 
broad  flat  stone  on  which  the  fire  was  to  be 
built ;  while  two  or  three  great  trunks  and 
stumps  formed  excellent  seats,  — excellent, 
that  is  to  say,  for  those  people  who  had  both 
their  limbs  left  to  them,— but  the  Colonel 
did  not  find  them  quite  so  comfortable;  so 
Starr  slung  a  camp  chair  over  his  arm  to  have 
it  ready  for  his  master's  use  when  he  should 

come. 

When  they  came  to  the  cornfield,  to  reach 
which  they  had  to  take  rather  a  roundabout 
path,  each  child  loaded  itself  with  as  many 
ears  of  corn  as  it  could  carry.  Papa  and 
Uncle  Ruthven  each  took  an  armful  too ;  so, 
when  they  were  all  laid  together,  there  was 
quite  a  pile. 

«  Ve  will  want  a  pretty  large  fire  to  roast 
all  that  corn,"  said  Bessie ;  "  we'll  have  to 
pick  up  a  great  many  sticks." 

Picking  up  sticks  for  the  fire  was  not 
thought  hard  wovk,  however,  but  famous  fun; 
and  the  little  ones  began  to  gather  them  up 


1 88        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

with  a  good  will.  This  was  by  no  means  the 
first  fire  they  had  built  on  this  very  convenient 
stone:  it  had  seen  many  a  potata  roast  and 
candy-boiling,  though  this  was  the  first  corn- 
roasting  they  had  had. 

But  here  quite  a  misfortune  happened  to 
Bessie.  As  she  was  coming  towards  the  fire- 
place, with  her  hands  full  of  dry  branches,  she 
tripped  and  fell  her  full  length  directly  in  the 
ashes  of  the  old  fires.  Her  father  and  other 
friends  could  not  be  thankful  enough  that  the 
match  had  not  yet  been  put  to  the  sticks 
which  lay  ready  for  lighting  ;  for  if  the  fire 
had  been  burning,  she  must  have  fallen  into 
the  flames  and  been  badly  burned. 

But  her  arms  and  knees  were  somewhat 
bruised  on  the  hard  rock,  and  her  white  dresa 
and  apron  sadly  soiled  and  black  from  the 
ashes. 

Now  Bessie  was  a  very  neat  child,—  par- 
ticular about  her  dress,  —  and  could  not  bear  to 
have  any  thing  near  her  that  was  not  quite 
clean.     The  little  knees  and  arms  could   be 


The  Bananas.  1S9 

washed  in  the  stream,  and  dried  on  the  towel 
which  had  been  brought ;  but  there  was  no 
way  of  cleansing  the  blackened  clothes,  and 
Bessie  was  distressed  at  the  thought  of  pass- 
ing the  whole  morning  in  such  a  condition. 

"  Come  then,  Miss  Bessie,"  said  Starr,  "  I'll 
just  take  }7ou  over  home,  where  you  may  have 
clean  clothes  put  on,  and  bring  you  back  before 
the  others  know  you  have  gone." 

Bessie  thanked  him,  and  said  she  would  be 
very  glad  ;  and  taking  her  up  in  his  arms,  so 
that  they  might  get  over  the  ground  in  short 
time,  the  good-natured  soldier  strode  away 
with  her. 

Mamma  was  a  good  deal  surprised,  and  a 
little  startled,  to  see  her  Bessie  coming  back 
so  soon  in  Starr's  arms  ;  but  it  was  presently 
explained,  and  the  little  girl  made  quite  neat 
and  clean  again.  She  was  about  leaving  the 
house  once  more  with  Starr,  when  she  heard 
Colonel  Rush  calling  her,  and  ran  back  to  his 
room. 

"  Bessie,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  here  are  half 


190       Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

a  dozen  bananas,  —  one  a-piece  for  each  of  you 
children,  —  yourself  and  Maggie,  your  three 
brothers  and  Hafed.  Would  you  not  enjoy 
them  up  in  the  woods  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Bessie ;  "  but  we  will  save 
them  till  you  all  come,  so  all  our  big  people 
can  have  some  too." 

"  Oh,  no !  keep  them  for  yourselves,"  said 
the  Colonel ;  "  your  big  people  all  had  enough 
last  night,  and  I  kept  these  out  for  you,  know- 
ing how  fond  you  and  Maggie  were  of  them." 

Bessie  thanked  and  kissed  him,  and  ran  off, 
giving  her  prize  to  Starr  to  carry  for  her. 

"  There's  a  way  by  which  I  can  take  you 
back  quicker,  if  you  didn't  mind  being  lifted 
up  a  steep  place  in  the  rocks.  It's  quite  safe : 
would  you  like  it,  Miss  Bessie  ?  "  said  Starr. 

Bessie  said  she  would  rather  go  by  the 
shortest  way  ;  and  Starr  struck  into  a  path,  if 
path  it  could  be  called,  which  was  quite  new 
to  her.  But  he  carried  her  safely  over  the 
rugged  way,  while  she  chatted  merrily  to  him. 

"  Starr,"  she  said, "  I'm  going  to  give  you  a 


The  Bananas,  icm 

piece  of  my  banana,  'cause  you're  so  very  kind 
and  good  to  me." 

"Thank  you  kindly,  miss,"  said  the  man; 
"  but  I  never  eat  them,  not  if  a  shipful  was 
before  me." 

"  Don't  you  like  them  ?  "  asked  the  little 
girl. 

w  No,  miss." 

"  Oh  !  I  like  them  better  than  any  thing,  — 
I  mean  better  than  any  thing  else  to  eat,"  said 
Bessie  ;  "  and  I  was  very  much  pleased  when 
the  Colonel  gave  me  these,  'cause  I  didn't  have 
one  since  I  came  to  Chalecoo." 

"  Then  I  am  glad,  too,  miss,"  said  Starr, 
who  in  the  city  had  often  been  sent  by  his 
master  to  buy  bananas  to  indulge  this  favorite 
fancy  of  Bessie's.  "  Now,  Miss  Bessie,  I  am 
just  going  to  put  you  on  top  of  this  great 
stone,  and  climb  up  myself  afterwards,  and 
then  we'll  be  but  a  few  rods  from  where  the 
ladies  and  gentlemen  are." 

Just  before  them  was  a  mass  of  rock,  four 
or  live  feet  high,  which  seemed  to  bar  the  way ; 


192        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

but  lifting  Bessie  as  high  as  he  could,  Starr 
set  her  safely  upon  the  top,  then  handing  her 
the  bananas  began  to  clamber  up  himself. 

At  that  moment  a  slight  rustle  made  Bessie 
turn  her  head,  and  she  found  herself  face  to 
face  with  Dolly  Owen.  Before  she  had  time 
to  utter  her  astonishment  and  alarm,  Starr 
stood  beside  her,  and  he  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  So,  you're  there,  are  you  ? "  he  said, 
sternly.  "What  wickedness  are  you  up  to 
now,  I'd  like  to  know  ?  " 

Dolly  made  no  answer,  but  sat  with  her 
eyes  fixed  upon  Bessie,  or  rather  upon  the 
tempting  bunch  of  bananas  she  held  in  her 
small  hands.  The  girl  was  half  lying,  half 
sitting  upon  the  ground,  her  head  and  shoul- 
ders resting  against  the  trunk  of  a  large  tree, 
her  face  drawn  as  if  she  were  in  great  pain. 
It  seemed  as  if  she  must  have  crept  into  this 
nook  as  a  hiding-place,  for  on  all  sides,  save 
the  one  by  which  Starr  and  Bessie  had  come, 
was  a  thick  growth  of  underbrush,  with  only  a 
narrow   outlet   where   the   bushes   had    been 


The  Bananas.  193 

partly  broken  down.  From  beyond  this  camo 
the  sound  of  gay  voices  and  merry  laughter, 
showing,  as  Starr  had  said,  that  the  rest  of  the 
party  were  not  far  distant.  Very  lonely  and 
dreary  the  wretched  child  looked,  lying  there 
with  those  happy  sounds  ringing  in  her  ears, 
telling  that  others  were  so  much  better  off,  so 
much  happier  than  she  was. 

"  What's  them  ?  "  she  asked,  looking  greed- 
ily at  the  bananas. 

"  Now  are  you  not  ashamed  to  be  speaking 
to  the  little  lady  after  what  you've  done?,, 
said  Starr.  "  Those  are  not  for  such  as  you, 
and  you  needn't  be  asking  what  they  are. 
And  look  you  here,  young  one,  you  let  mo 
catcli  you  a  step  nearer  the  gentlefolks,  and 
I'll  let  you  hear  something  you  won't  like. 
My  patience  is  about  come  to  an  end." 

Still  Dolly  took  no  notice  of  him.  Instead 
of  running  away,  or  cowering  in  fear  of  pun- 
ishment, as  she  generally  did  when  any  grown 
person  came  near  her,  she  remained  crouched, 
without  moving,  upon  the  ground. 


194       Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

"  Gi'  rne  one,"  she  said  to  Bessie. 

"  Did  I  ever  hear  such  impudence  !  "  ex- 
claimed Starr,  roused  out  of  his  usual  stiff- 
ness ;  "  well,  you  are  the  most  graceless 
creature  I  ever  did  see.  Come  on,  Miss  Bes- 
sie, if  you  please." 

But  Bessie  gently  put  aside  Starr's  hand,  as 
he  would  have  led  her  away. 

"  Please  wait  a  minute,  Starr." 

"  I  say,  gi'  me  one,"  said  Dolly  again ; 
"  I  aint  eat  nothin'  to-day  nor  yesterday,  and 
Lem's  gone  away." 

It  was,  indeed,  a  bold  thing  for  Dolly  to  ask 
any  thing  of  one  whom  she  had  injured  so 
much;  but  she  was  ravenous  with  hunger, 
and  having  no  shame,  she  had  no  thought 
save  how  she  might  satisfy  it. 

Bessie  stood  looking  from  her  to  the  ba- 
nanas. Should  she  give  Dolly  her  own  or 
not?  She  wanted  it  very  much  herself;  but 
she  had  asked  her  Father  in  heaven  to  let 
her  find  some  way  to  be  kind  to  Lem  and 
Dolly,  and  now  was  He  not  answering  her 


The  Bananas,  195 

prayer?  It  had  been  very  pleasant  to  think 
of  sharing  the  delicious  fruit  with  her  own 
dear  friends  whom  she  loved  so  much,  or  even 
of  giving  a  piece  to  Starr,  who  was  always  so 
kind  and  good  to  her  ;  but  to  give  it  all  to  this 
bad  girl  who  had  done  so  much  cruel  mischief 
to  her  and  hers,  was  another  thing. 

Perhaps  strong,  healthy  children,  who  can 
enjoy  whatever  is  set  before  them,  can  have 
little  idea  what  a  piece  of  self-denial  this  was 
to  Bessie.  She  was  a  delicate  child,  with  a 
slight  appetite  which  needed  some  coaxing, 
and,  as  she  had  said  to  Starr,  if  there  was 
any  one  thing  which  she  liked  particularly,  it 
was  a  fine  banana. 

Yes,  she  wanted  it  very  much  ;  but  there 
was  poor  Dolly  who  wanted  it  very  much  too, 
—  who  said  she  had  had  nothing  to  eat  all  day 
yesterday,  who  probably  had  never  tasted  such 
a  fruit ;  for  she  had  asked  what  they  were 
when  she  saw  them,  —  who,  even  Bessie's  inno- 
cent eyes  could  see,  looked  very  ill.  Was 
not  here  a  chance  to  "  render  good  for  evil ;  " 


196       Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

to  do  the  kind  thing  she  had  said  she  would 
do  if  she  could  but  find  the  way  ? 

She  had  a  moment's  struggle  with  herself; 
then,  breaking  one  of  the  bananas  from  the 
stem,  she  went  a  little  nearer  to  Dolly  and 
held  it  out  at  arm's  length,  for  she  feared  the 
mischievous  girl  too  much  to  go  very  close  to 
her. 

Dolly  raised  herself  slowly  and  clutched  at 
the  banana,  but  sank  back  again  with  a  cry  of 
pain. 

"  Have  you  hurt  yourself,  Dolly  ?  "  asked 
Bessie,  gently. 

Dolly  made  no  answer,  but  stretched  out 
her  hand  again  for  the  fruit. 

Bessie  went  a  little  nearer,  and  timidly 
placed  it  in  her  hand. 

"  That's  not  the  way,"  she  said,  as  the  girl 
greedily  bit  into  the  close,  tough  skin.  "  You 
must  peel  it.     I  will  show  you." 

Dolly  held  fast  to  the  banana  for  a  moment, 
as  if  she  feared  Bessie  was  about  to  take  it 
back  ;  then,  with  a  wondering  look  into  the 
sweet,  pitiful  little  face,  gave  it  up. 


The  Bananas.  197 

"  Now,  don't  you  be  waiting  on  her,  Miss 
Bessie,"  said  Starr ;  "  you've  done  more  than 
enough  already,  to  give  her  your  banana. 
Will  you  come,  miss,  and  just  leave  that  girl 
to  herself?" 

"  I  think  I'd  better  fix  it  for  her,  Starr. 
She  don't  know  how,  and  I  think  there's 
something  the  matter  with  her,"  said  Bessie : 
and,  stripping  the  peel  from  the  fruit,  she 
placed  it  once  more  in  Dolly's  hand. 

"  Does  something  hurt  you  ?  "  she  asked,  as 
the  girl  moaned  again  when  she  moved. 

"  Yes,  I  hurts  all  over,"  answered  Dolly. 

"Did  you  fall  down?" 

"  No,  I  didn't,"  mumbled  Dolly,  with  her 
mouth  full. 

"  Then  how  did  you  hurt  yourself  so 
much  ?  " 

"  Dunno,"  said  Dolly,  sullenly.  But  she 
did  know ;  she  knew  right  well  that  those 
terrible  racking  pains  came  from  that  night 
spent  in  the  Ice  Glen.  She  had  a  feeling 
as  if  Bessie  must   know  it   too.     "  Now  just 


io8       Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

you  and   that   man  clear  out.     I  came  here 
first,"  she  muttered. 

"  Don't  fret  yourself:  your  company's  not  so 
pleasant,  nor  your  talk  so  sweet,  that  the  little 
lady  need  want  more  of  it,"  said  Starr.  "  Miss 
Bessie,  my  dear,  won't  you  come  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Bessie,  "  in  a  moment,"  and 
then,  turning  again  to  the  girl,  —  "  Dolly,  I  am 
very  sorry  for  you." 

"  Humph,"  said  Dolly,  in  a  tone  as  if  she 
could  not  believe  this. 

"  Don't  you  think  lam?"  said  Bessie. 

"  I  knows  better,"  was  the  answer  she  re- 
ceived. 

"  But  I  am,  Dolly,  really.  I  am  very  sorry 
for  you,  'cause  you  have  that  pain,  and  'cause 
you  don't  have  any  one  to  love  you,  and  take 
care  of  you,  and  teach  you.  Wouldn't  you  let 
me  be  a  little  kind  to  you  ?  " 

"  If  you're  so  sorry,  give  me  another  of 
them,"  said  Dolly  again,  looking  at  the  ba- 
nanas with  a  greedy  eye.  She  had  never 
tasted  any  thing  so  delicious  in  her  life,  and 


The  Bananas.  199 

the  one  which  Bessie  had  given  only  made 
her  more  anxious  for  a  second. 

Bessie  gave  a  little  sigh. 

"I  would  if  they  were  mine,,,  she  said; 
"  but  they  are  not,  and  so  I  cannot  give  them 
to  you.'' 

"Be  off  then.  You're  glad  I  ache  so;  1 
know  you  are  'cause  I  plagued  you  so." 

Starr's  patience  was  at  an  end  ;  and,  lifting 
his  little  charge  in  his  arms,  he  plunged 
through  the  opening  in  the  bushes. 

"  Miss  Bessie,"  he  said,  "  you  ought  to  let 
that  girl  alone ;  she's  not  fit  for  you  to  care 
for,  and  it's  all  kindness  thrown  away." 

Bessie  looked  very  grave  and  thoughtful. 

"  Starr,"  she  said,  presently,  "  if  she  is  fit 
for  Jesus  to  care  for,  she  must  be  fit  for  us  to 
care  for." 

Starr  was  silenced :  he  had  not  another 
word  to  say. 

When  Bessie  reached  her  playfellows,  the 
fire  was  burning  famously ;  but  they  had 
waited  to  husk  the  corn  till  she  should 
come  to  have  her  share  in  that  pleasure. 


200        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

"  But  where  is  your  banana  ?"  asked  Mag- 
gie, when  her  sister  divided  the  Colonel's  gift. 

"  It  is  gone,"  answered  Bessie. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Maggie,  "  why,  didn't  you 
wait  to  eat  it  with  the  rest  of  us  ?  But 
never  mind,  you  shall  have  half  of  mine." 

"  Let's  husk  the  corn  now,"  said  Harry ; 
"  we'll  have  the  bananas  by  and  by." 

The  ears  were  soon  stripped  of  their  green 
dress  and  silken  tassels,  and  laid  round  the 
fire  to  roast.  Then  Bessie  told  Maggie  she 
wanted  to  tell  her  a  secret,  and  drew  her  a 
little  aside  from  the  others. 

"  Maggie,"  she  said,  "  I  did  not  eat  my 
banana ;  I  gave  it  away." 

"  Did  you  ?  "  said  Maggie.  "  That  was  very 
good  of  you,  'cause  you're  so  fond  of  them. 
Who  did  you  give  it  to  ?  " 

"  To  Dolly,"  answered  Bessie. 

"To  Dolly!  that  bad  thing!"  exclaimed 
Maggie;  "where  did  you  see  her?" 

Bessie  told  how  she  and  Starr  had  found 
Dolly,  and  of  what  had  passed,  ending  with, — 


The  Bananas.  201 

"  I  would  have  given  her  another  banana  if 
any  of  them  had  been  mine,  Maggie ;  and  I 
thought  you  would  have  given  her  yours  too, 
to  show  her  you  wanted  to  be  kind  to  her,  if 
you  only  knew  about  it." 

"  So  I  would,"  said  Maggie,  "  and  I  wouldn't 
have  cared  if  you  had  given  it  to  her.  T 
will  let  you  do  just  what  you  choose  with  any 
thing  of  mine,  Bessie,  and  not  be  a  bit  pro- 
voked." 

"  Bat  it  was  not  mine,  you  see,"  said  Bes- 
sie, "  and  I  didn't  think  it  would  be  right 
when  you  did  not  tell  me  to." 

"  I'd  give  it  to  her  now,  if  I  was  to  see  her," 
said  Maggie  ;  "  but  then  we  couldn't  go  and 
find  her,  you  know.  She  might  do  something 
to  us." 

"  I  don't  think  she  could  very  well,"  said 
Bessie.  "  It  hurts  her  so  to  move  ;  and  her 
speaking  sounds  like  mine  when  I  have  the 
croup.  Starr  said  he  thought  she  looked 
very  sick.  She's  just  over  behind  those 
bushes,  and  some  one  could  go  and  take  care 


202        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

of  us.  I  think  she  would  be  sure  we  are 
sorry  for  her  if  we  took  it  to  her.  Shall  we 
ask  papa  about  it  ?  " 

Maggie  agreed,  and  papa  was  called  and 
told  the  whole  story,  and  of  their  wish  to  take 
the  second  banana  to  Dolly. 

He  thought  it  over  for  a  moment  or  two, 
and  then  said  he  would  let  them  take  it,  and 
would  go  with  them  to  see  that  no  harm  befell 
them  at  Dolly's  hands. 


XL 


GOOD  FOR  EVILr 


gp^jJglOLLY  was  found  lying  in  the   same 


spot,  and  almost  in  the  same  position, 
in   which  Bessie  and  Starr  had  left 
her;  but  now  she  was  half  asleep. 

Thinking  she  might  receive  the  children's 
kindness  in  a  better  spirit,  if  there  was  no 
older  person  to  look  on,  Mr.  Bradford  helped 
his  little  daughters  through  the  screening 
bushes,  and  then  drew  back  a  few  steps  where 
lie  might  still  watch  them,  and  hear  all  that 
passed,  but  where  Dolly  could  not  see  him. 

At  the  rustling  of  the  children's  footsteps 
upon  the  dry  leaves  and  branches,  Dolly 
started  and  opened  her  heavy  eyes,  to  see 
Maggie  and  Bessie  standing  hand  in  hand 
before    her.     The    old,    fierce,    defiant    look 


204        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

flashed  into  them  for  one  moment,  then  died 
out  again  before  timid  Maggie  had  time  to 
start  back  and  draw  her  sister  with  her. 

"  My  Maggie  came  to  bring  you  her  banana," 
said  Bessie,  gently.  "  I  couldn't  give  it  to  you, 
'cause  it  was  not  mine ;  but  when  I  told  her 
you  didn't  have  any  thing  to  eat  for  most  two 
days,  she  was  sorry  for  you,  and  said  you  should 
have  it." 

"  It's  good.  I  like  it,"  said  Dolly,  as  Mag- 
gie, summoning  all  her  courage,  stepped  slowly 
towards  her  and  gave  her  the  banana. 

"  Dolly,"  said  Bessie,  "  will  you  believe  now 
that  we  are  sorry  for  you,  and  want  to  be  kind 
to  you  ? " 

"  I  s'pose  so,"  answered  Dolly,  gruffly,  as  if 
she  were  still  half  unwilling  or  unable  to  be- 
lieve that  they  meant  what  they  said. 

They  stood  in  silence,  watching  the  half-fam- 
ished creature  as  she  eat  her  fruit,  then  Bcssio 
said, — 

"  Dolly,  why  don't  you  go  home  ?  " 

"  No,  I  shan't  neither,  I  aint  goin'  to  stir," 


"Good for  Evil."  205 

she  answered  snappishly,  with  one  quick,  sus- 
picious glance  at  the  children,  and  another  to- 
wards the  trunk  of  the  old  tree  against  which 
she  leaned.  "  I've  got  a  right  here,  if  I've  a 
mind  to  stay.  'Taint  your  ground  nor  Porter's 
neither." 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  said  Bessie,  "I  did  not  mean 
that,  only  you  have  such  a  bad  cold,  and  it 
hurts  you  so  to  move,  and  these  rocks  are  so 
hard,  I  should  think  you'd  be  more  comfortable 
in  your  bed  at  home." 

"  Guess  my  home's  a  sight  more  comfortable 
than  these  rocks,  aint  it  ?  "  said  Dolly,  with  a 
grin.     "  One's  about  as  good  as  t'other." 

"  Poor  Dolly !  "  said  Bessie,  "  I  wish  you 
had  a  better  home,  and  some  one  to  care  for 
you  and  Lem." 

"  What  for  ?  I  s'pose  you  think  I  wouldn't 
bother  you  then." 

"  I  hope  you  wouldn't,"  said  Bessie;  "  but  I 
was  not  thinking  about  that.  It  was  only 
'cause  I  am  so  sorry  that  you  don't  have  a  nice 
home  and  plenty  to  eat,  and  people  to  love  you. 
But,  Dolly,  you  know  Jjjsus  loves  you." 


206        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

"  No,  he  don't  neither,"  was  the  answer. 

"  But  he  does,  indeed  he  does,"  said  Bessie, 
earnestly ;  "  he  loves  you  all  the  time,  and  it 
"makes  him  sorry  when  you  are  naughty ;  but 
if  you  won't  do  so  any  more,  but  will  try  to 
love  him,  he  will  be  glad,  and  then  you  will 
be  his  owTn  little  child,  'cause  he  says,  '  Suffer 
little  children  to  come  unto  me,'  and  he  means 
all  children.  Mrs.  Rush  taught  us  that  one 
Sunday." 

"I  say,"  said  Dolly,  "I  could  ha'  plagued 
you  last  Sunday  if  I'd  had  a  mind  to.  The  old 
dog  wasn't  there." 

"  No :  Buffer  was  sick  last  Sunday  afternoon," 
answered  Bessie.  "  Did  you  come  by  our  Sun- 
day bower  ? " 

"  I  came  by  the  place  where  you  go  of  Sun- 
days," said  Dolly ;  "  but  I  didn't  do  nothing 
'cause  I  had  a  mind  to  hear  you  singin'.  It 
sounded  nice  :  I  liked  it." 

"  Will  you  come  next  Sunday  ?  "  said  Bes- 
sie, eager  for  the  slightest  chance  of  doing 
Dolly  good.     "  Mrs.  Rush    and   the   Colonel 


M  Good  for  Evil;'  207 

would  let  you,  I  am  sure ;  and  they'll  tell  you 
about  Jesus  a  great  deal  better  than  I  can,  and 
how  he  loves  you,  and  will  take  you  to  heaven, 
if  you  will  only  be  a  good  girl  and  love  him. 
Wouldn't  you  like  to  hear  about  it  ?  " 

"  Duuno,"  said  Dolly ;  "  I  like  to  hear  you 
sing.     Jesus  is  God,  aint  he  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Bessie,  coming  closer  to  the 
poor  girl,  and  drawing  Maggie  with  her.  "  He 
is  God's  Son,  and  he  came  away  from  his 
heaven  to  die  for  us,  so  we  could  go  there,  and 
live  with  him,  if  we  would  only  love  him  and 
do  what  he  tells  us.  And  heaven  is  such  a 
beautiful  place  !  Dolly,  the  angels  are  there ;  and 
every  one  will  be  so  happy  ;  and  no  one  will  be 
hungry  or  sick  or  tired  there ;  and  Jesus  will 
take  care  of  us  always,  always.  Wouldn't  you 
like  to  go  there,  Dolly  ?  " 

"  I'd  like  to  go  somewhere,"  said  Dolly  weari- 
ly ;  "  I'm  about  tired  of  this.  I'd  like  not  to  be 
hungry,  nor  to  have  this  pain  no  more.  But 
'taint  likely  your  Jesus  wants  me  in  his  beau- 
tiful place.  I  s'pose  he  wants  clean  folks  with 
nice  clothes,  not  old  dirty  rasrs  like  mine." 


2o8        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

Maggie  was  beginning  to  feel  braver  as  she 
saw  that  Dolly  was  quiet  and  not  in  a  mood 
for  mischief,  and  now  she  spoke. 

"Jesus  won't  mind  about  rags  if  you 
only  have  a  heart  that  loves  him,"  she  said. 
"  He  loves  you  just  as  much  in  your  rags,  as 
he  loves  some  other  little  girl  who  is  dressed 
nicely." 

"  How  do  you  know  he  loves  me  ?  "  asked 
Dolly. 

"  'Cause  the  Bible  says  so,"  said  Maggie ;  "  so 
it  must  be  true,  'cause  the  Bible  is  God's  word. 
And  besides,  Dolly,  if  Jesus  came  to  die  for 
you,  so  you  could  go  to  heaven,  don't  you  think 
he  must  love  you  ?  When  a  person  does  a  very 
kind  thing  for  you,  don't  that  make  you  think 
they  love  you  ?  " 

"  Did  you  give  me  them  goodies  'cause  you 
loved  me  ?  "  said  Dolly. 

Maggie  was  rather  disturbed  at  this  question, 
and  did  not  know  how  to  answer  it ;  but  Bessie, 
seeing  her  trouble,  spoke  for  her. 

"  Why,  no,  Dolly,"  she  said,  "  I'm  'fraid  we 


"  Gaodfor  Evil."  209 

don't  love  you  very  much ;  you  know  you 
couldn't  'spect  us  to :  but  we  wanted  to  be  kind 
to  you,  and  to  make  you  know  we  wanted  to 
forgive  you  for  troubling  us  so." 

"  You  was  real  good  to  give  me  them  things," 
said  Dolly ;  «  they  was  first  rate.  And  you  was 
good  to  get  Lem  let  out  too  ;  he  told  me.  But 
I  say,"  —  and  Dolly  really  looked  half  ashamed, 

—  "'twant  him  did  that." 

Bessie  thought  she  was  speaking  of  the  cup. 

"  I  don't  believe  very  much  that  he  did,"  she 
said.  "  Mr.  Porter  thinks  maybe  the  pedler- 
man  took  it,  '  cause  he  went  to  Farmer  Todd's 
house,  and  after  he  was  gone  some  spoons 
were  lost;  and  they  think  he  stole  them,  so 
maybe  he  has  my  cup  too." 

"  I  didn't  mean  that,"  answered  Dolly,  slowly. 
"I  meant  'twant  Lem  spiled  your  gardens,  but 

—  I  am  sorry  I  done  it  — there  now.     And 
Lem  aint  got  your  cup ;  you  can  just  know  it." 

"  We  try  to  believe  he  didn't,"  said  Bessie. 
Then  she  added,  witli  a  quiver  of  her  lip  and  a 
tear  or  two  gathering  in  her  eyes,  "I   don't 


2io        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

think  any  one  could  have  taken  it  if  they  had 
known  how  very  fond  I  was  of  it.  You  see, 
Dolly,  I  had  that  cup  a  great,  great  many  years, 
ever  since  I  was  a  little  baby  ;  and  I  always  had 
my  drink  out  of  it,  so  you  see  we  grew  up  to- 
gether, and  I  don't  know  how  I  can  bear  never 
to  see  it  again.  I  was  pretty  much  troubled 
to  lose  my  cup  and  my  garden  too." 

Dolly  looked  uneasily  at  her,  moved  rest- 
lessly on  her  hard  bed,  and  sank  back  again 
with  another  moan. 

"  I  guess  we'll  have  to  go  now,"  said  Maggie. 
«  Will  you  come  next  Sunday  and  hear  Mrs. 
Rush  tell  about  Jesus  and  how  he  loved  you?  " 
said  Bessie.    "  Or  papa  and  mamma  would  tell 
you  about  it  if  you  liked.     They  can  do  it  a 
great  deal  better  than  we  Gan." 
3  «  No,"  said  Dolly,  "  I   don't  want  to  hear 
big  folks.     I  don't  mind  your  speaking  to  me 
if  you   choose.     But,  I  say,  don't  you  never 
sing  but  on  Sundays?" 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  said  Bessie, "  we  sing  every  day 
and  sometimes  a  good  many  times  in  the  day." 


«  Good  for  Evil."  211 

"  I  like  music,"  said  Dolly.  "  Lem  whistles 
fustrate." 

"  Yes,  we  know  it,"  said  Maggie.  "  Once  wt 
heard  him  when  we  couldn't  see  him,  and  we 
asked  Mr.  Porter  who  it  was,  and  he  told  us  it 
was  Lem  ;  and  we  listened  as  long  as  we  could 
hear  him :  it  sounded  so  sweet  and  clear.  I 
never  heard  any  one  whistle  like  that." 

"  Yes,"  said  Dolly,  looking  pleased  ;  "  nobody 
can  beat  him  at  that.  S'pose  you  couldn't  sing 
me  a  tune  'fore  you  go,  could  you  ?  It's  so 
lonesome,  lying  here." 

"  Why,  yes :  we  will  if  you  want  us  to,"  Bes- 
sie answered  readily,  though  she  as  well  as 
Maggie  was  much  surprised  at  the  request. 
"  We'll  sing,  '  I  want  to  be  an  angel.'  " 

So  they  stood,  these  two  "  ministering  chil- 
dren," and  sang  ;  their  young  voices  rising  sweet 
and  clear  amid  the  solemn  stillness  of  the 
grand  old  woods  ;  for  very  still  it  was.  As  the 
first  notes  arose,  the  friends  whom  they  had 
left,  hushed  laughter  and  merry  talk  that 
they  might  not  lose  one  of  the  sweet  sounds. 


212        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

They  only  knew  that  Maggie  and  Bessie 
had  wandered  off  with  papa,  and  thought 
this  was  meant  as  a  pleasant  surprise  for 
them. 

But  it  was  a  higher,  greater  Friend,  — a 
"Friend  above  all  others," — whom  our  little 
jewel- seekers  were  just  then  trying  to  please  ; 
and,  although  they  might  not  know  it,  they  had 
that  day  taken  up  the  first  link  of  the  golden 
chain,  by  which  poor  Dolly's  soul  was  to  be 
drawn  out  of  the  clouds  and  darkness  in  which 
it  had  lain,  up  into  the  light  and  sunshine  of 
his  glorious  presence.  A  very  slight  and  fragile 
link  it  might  seem,  but  it  was  doubtless  very 
precious  in  the  eyes  of  the  heavenly  Father, 
whose  hands  could  make  it  strong  and  lasting, 
and  fit  to  shine  before  him  in-the  "  day  when  he 
shall  make  up  his  jewels." 

Very  precious  it  was,  too,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
earthly  father,  who  watched  the  scene,  and 
looking  from  his  own  tenderly  cared  for,  dain- 
tily dressed  darlings,  to  the  forlorn,  ragged  out- 
cast, thanked  God  that  for  all  three  alike  had 


"  Good  for  Evil?  213 

the  blessed  words  been  spoken,  "  Suffer  little 
children  to  come  unto  me." 

"  Is  that  place  the  song  talks  about  that 
heaven  you  was  telling  about  ?  "  asked  Dolly 
when  the  children  had  finished  "  I  want  to  be 
an  angel." 

"  Yes,"  said  Bessie.  "  You  do  want  to  go 
there  ;  don't  you,  Dolly  ?  " 

"  'Taint  no  use  wantin,"  said  Dolly.  "  I'll 
never  get  there,  nor  Lem  neither.  Sing  some 
more." 

"  We'll  sing  '  Rest  for  the  weary,'  'cause  she 
said  she  was  so  tired,"  said  Maggie. 

When  they  were  through,  Mr.  Bradford 
stepped  from  behind  the  bushes  which  had 
hidden  him  until  now. 

Dolly  started  when  she  saw  him,  and  the 
old  look,  half  guilty,  half  defiant,  came  back  to 
her  eyes.  But  she  soon  found  she  need  not  be 
afraid  ;  for,  bending  over  her,  he  said,  kindly,  — 

"  My  poor  girl,  you  are  in  great  pain,  I  fnar. 
How  did  you  hurt  yourself?  " 

"  Didn't  hurt  myself,"  grumbled  Dolly,  still 


214       Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

suspicious,  and  shrinking  from  that  grave, 
steady  look. 

"  Then  you  are  ill,"  said  Mr.  Bradford,  no- 
ticing the  burning  cheeks  and  heavy  eyes, 
"  you  must  not  lie  here,  or  you  will  be  worse. 
Can  you  go  home  ?  " 

"  I  shan't  go  home,"  said  Dolly,  passionate- 
ly, and  with  another  quick  glance  over  her 
shoulder. 

Mr.  Bradford  did  not  insist,  though  he 
meant  she  should  obey  him,  but  said,  kindly,  — 

"  Are  you  still  hungry  ?  Would  you  like 
some  roasted  corn  ?  " 

Dolly  muttered  something  which  might  be 
either  no  or  yes,  falling  back  into  her  old 
sullenness;  but  Mr.  Bradford  answered  as 
kindly  as  if  she  had  spoken  pleasantly,  and 
told  her  she  should  have  some. 

"  Shall  we  bring  it  to  her,  papa  ?  "  asked 
Bessie. 

Mr.  Bradford  said  no;  for  he  had  been 
rather  startled  when  he  found  Dolly  was  ill, 
not  hurt,  as  he  had  first  supposed;    and  he 


"  Good  for  Evil."  215 

was  not  willing  his  little  daughters  should  come 
near  her  again,  till  he  was  sure  what  ailed  her. 

He  told  the  children  to  bid  Dolly  good-by, 
which  they  did ;  the  girl  replying  in  a  more 
gentle  tone  than  she  had  yet  used,  and  then 
calling  Bessie  back,  saying,  "  Here,  littlest 
one." 

But  when  Bessie  looked  back  to  see  what 
she  wanted,  she  refused  to  speak,  and,  shut- 
ting her  eyes,  turned  her  face  away. 

Mamma  and  grandmamma,  Colonel  and 
Mrs.  Rush,  had  all  arrived  when  our  little 
girls  came  back  to  the  fire ;  and  the  corn 
was  nicely  roasted,  waiting  to  be  eaten.  So 
the  merry,  happy  party  gathered  round  to 
enjoy  it. 

Dolly  was  not  forgotten ;  for  Maggie  and 
Bessie  picked  out  a  couple  of  nice,  brown 
ears,  and  Starr  was  sent  to  carry  them  to  her, 
—  an  errand  which  he  did  not  do  very  will- 
ingly. He  came  back,  saying  that  he  had 
found  her  angry,  and  that  she  refused  to 
touch  or  look  at  the  corn. 


2i6       Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

When  all  had  had  enough,  Mr.  Bradford 
asked  Mr.  Stanton  if  he  would  go  with  him 
and  see  the  poor  girl,  and  tell,  if  he  could, 
what  might  be  done  for  her.  Uncle  Ruthven 
was  not  a  doctor,  but  he  knew  a  good  deal 
about  medicine,  and  had  often  practised  it  in 
his  travels  when  no  physician  was  at  hand. 
He  willingly  agreed  to  see  Dolly,  and  the  two 
gentlemen  went  off  immediately. 

As  Mr.  Bradford  had  expected,  his  brother- 
in-law  pronounced  Dolly  to  be  very  sick.  She 
would  answer  no  questions,  but  it  was  easy  to 
see  that  she  had  a  bad  cold  and  a  high  fever, 
and  that  the  pain,  which  became  so  bad  when 
she  moved,  was  rheumatism.  Mr.  Stanton  at 
once  said  that  she  must  no  longer  lie  upon  the 
hard,  cold  rock  ;  she  must  go  home :  but  it 
seemed  to  be  doubtful  if  she  could  walk. 
When  the  gentlemen  tried  to  raise  her,  they 
found  this  no  longer  doubtful,  but  quite  im- 
possible :  the  girl's  cramped  limbs  could  not 
hold  her  up;  she  could  not  stir  one  step. 
Perhaps   she  would   not  have  gone  had  she 


*  Good  for  Evil."  217 

been  able  to  do  so,  for  she  broke  forth  into 
angry  cries  and  refusals  to  be  moved,  which 
were  only  stopped  by  a  violent  fit  of  coughing. 

These  cries  brought  the  Colonel,  with  Mrs. 
Stanton  and  Starr,  to  see  if  they  could  be  of 
any  assistance ;  and  Colonel  Rush,  finding 
there  was  difficulty  in  moving  Dolly,  proposed 
that  his  camp  chair  should  be  brought,  and 
the  sick  girl  carried  home  in  that. 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  Starr  was  sent 
for  the  chair,  and  when  it  was  brought,  Dolly 
was  gently  raised  and  placed  in  it.  She  would 
still  have  resisted,  but  she  saw  that  the  gentle- 
men were  determined,  and  it  was  such  agony 
to  move  that  she  thought  it  as  well  to  submit. 
When  she  was  in  the  chair,  Mr.  Stanton  and 
Starr  raised  it,  and  began  to  move  off. 

"  Wait  a  bit !  wait  a  bit !  "  exclaimed  Dolly. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  asked  Mr.  Stanton, 
kindly. 

"  S'pose  I  might  as  well  tell,"  muttered 
Dolly,  as  if  speaking  to  herself;  "he'll  just 
come  back  and  get  it,  and  I'd  liever  she'd  have 


2i8        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

it.  I  say,"  she  added,  in  a  louder  tone,  "I 
want  to  speak  to  the  little  gals'  pa." 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Mr.  Bradford,  coming  nearer. 

"  You  won't  say  Lem  took  it,  will  you  ?  " 
asked  Dolly. 

"  I  would  not  say  Lem  took  any  thing  unless 
I  was  quite  sure  of  it,"  said  the  gentleman. 

"  Well,  then,  you  just  may  be  sure  he  didn't 
take  it,  and  I  didn't  neither  ;  'twas  the  pcdler, 
and  I  seen  where  he  put  it.  He  didn't  know 
I  was  behind  the  bushes,  but  I  seen  him. 
That's  why  I  stayed  about,  so  as  to  scare 
film  off  if  he  came ;  but  Lem  didn't  know 
nothin'  about  it.  I  guess  I'll  tell  where  he 
put  it,  'cause  the  little  gal  was  good  to  me 
after  I  plagued  her.  Jes'  you  put  your 
hand  in  that  hole,  and  see  what  you  find ; " 
and,  with  trembling  fingers,  she  pointed  to  a 
hole  in  the  trunk  of  the  old  tree  against 
which  she  had  been  leaning. 

Mr.  Bradford  put  his  hand  into  the  opening, 
and,  after  feeling  about  a  little,  drew  forth  a 
bundle.     Opening  it,  he  found  not  only  what 


"  Good  for  Evil"  219 

he  «n<2  expected  to  see,  Bessie's  lost  cup,  but 
ah  farmer  Todd's  silver  spoons,  and  one  or 
tm  ^ther  small  articles  which  he  thought  must 
hav.  been  stolen.  The  finding  of  the  spoons 
with  the  cup,  made  it  almost  certain  that  Lem 
had  not  taken  the  latter ;  and  Mr.  Bradford 
was  very  glad  that  he  had  not  suffered  appear 
ances  to  make  him  judge  the  boy  too  harshly. 

And  now  Mr.  Stanton  and  Starr  moved  on 
with  the  chair.  They  carried  it  as  steadily  as 
possible,  but  the  way  was  rough,  and  with  all 
their  care  t^ery  step  gave  great  pain  to  Dolly. 
Mr.  Bradfoid  and  Mrs.  Stanton  followed  to  see 
what  could  be  done  to  make  the  poor  creature 
comfortable.  Comfortable !  that  seemed  a 
hopeless  task,  indeed,  when  they  reached  the 
wretched  hovel  and  looked  about  them. 

Dolly  was  laid  upon  the  pile  of  leaves  and 
rags  wl  ich  served  for  a  bed;  and  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Stanton  stayed  with  her  while  Mr.  Brad- 
ford, taking  Starr  with  him,  went  back  to  beg 
from  Mrs.  Fo**ter  what  was  needful  for  her. 


XII. 


UNCLE  RUTH  YEN'S    WORK. 


ggOLLY,  quite  tired  out  with  pain,  had 
sunk  into  a  restless  sleep ;  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Stanton  were  sitting  on 
the  rocks  outside  the  door,  waiting  till  Mr. 
Bradford  should  return,  when  a  sweet,  clear 
whistle,  like  a  bird-call,  rang  through  the 
wood.  Tt  was  repeated  again,  and  yet  again, 
and  was  plainly  some  signal.  Each  time  it 
came  nearer,  and  at  the  third  sounded  close 
at  hand ;  and  the  next  instant  Lem  sprang 
round  a  point  of  the  rock.  As  he  caught 
sight  of  the  lady  and  gentleman  before  the 
hovel  door,  he  started,  and,  after  staring  at 
them  for  one  instant,  turned  to  run  away. 

But  Mr.  Stanton's  voice  stopped  him. 

"  Do  not  run  off  again,"  he  said,  kindly ; 


Uncle  Ruthven's  Work.  221 

"jour  sister  is  very  sick,  and  lying  here  in 
the  house.     Come  and  see  her." 

Lem  stood  a  moment,  half  doubtful ;  then 
rushed  past  the  gentleman  into  the  house. 
lie  came  out  again  presently,  his  eyes  wido 
open  with  astonishment  and  alarm. 

"  What  you  been  a  doin'  to  her?"  he  said, 
fiercely. 

"  We  found  her  lying  upon  the  rocks,  un- 
able to  move,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  not  heeding 
the  angry  tone,  "  and  so  brought  her  here  in 
this  chair.  We  have  sent  to  Mrs.  Porter  for 
some  things  to  make  a  bed  for  her,  but  no 
bed  can  be  kept  fit  for  her  unless  it  is  quite 
dry  ;  and  I  fear  this  roof  of  yours  is  not  water- 
tight. I  wonder  if  you  and  I  could  not  make 
it  so.  Do  you  know  where  you  can  buy  some 
straw  ? " 

"  Know  where  there's  plenty  of  straw  for 
them  as  can  pay  for  it,"  answered  Lem. 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  cheerfully, 
u  you  find  the  straw,  and  I'll  do  the  paying. 
There ;  bring  as   many  bunches  as  they  will 


222        Bessie  among  the  Mountains 


£> 


give  you  for  that,"  and  he  put  fifty  cents  into 
Lem's  hand. 

The  boy  gazed  at  the  money  open-mouthed, 

—  probably  he  had  never  in  his  life  had  so 
much,  honestly  come  by,  in  his  hands  at  once, 

—  turned  it  over,  stared  at  Mr.  Stanton,  and 
then  again  at  the  money.  That  any  one 
should  trust  him  with  money,  or  with  any 
thing  that  had  the  least  value,  was  something 
so  new  that  he  could  scarcely  believe  his  own 
senses. 

"  They'll  say  I  didn't  come  by  it  fair,  and 
won't  give  me  no  straw,"  he  said  at  last, 
thrusting  the  money  back  upon  Mr.  Stanton. 

The  gentleman  knew  this  was  only  too 
likely,  and  too  well  deserved ;  and,  taking  a 
pencil  and  slip  of  paper  from  his  pocket-book, 
he  wrote  a  few  words,  and  handed  the  paper 
to  Lorn. 

Lem  could  neither  read  nor  write,  but  he  was 
no  fool ;  and  he  knew  that  those  few  black 
marks  would  do  more  for  him  than  any 
amount  of  talking  on  his  own  part;  but  he 


Uncle  Ruthveris  Work,  223 

was  even  yet  a  little  suspicious.  He  stood 
hesitating  for  a  moment,  looking  back  into 
the  house,  where  his  sister  lay  moaning  in 
her  uneasy  sleep,  then  darted  away  into  the 
path  which  led  down  the  mountain. 

"  Do  you  think  he  is  to  be  trusted,  Ruth- 
ven  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Stanton.  "  Will  he  come 
back  ? " 

"  I  think  so,"  replied  her  husband ;  "  any 
way,  I  thought  I  would  try  it.  It  may  give 
me  some  hold  upon  him." 

In  less  time  than  could  have  been  thought 
possible  by  one  who  knew  the  distance  he  had 
to  go,  Lem  was  back ;  but  a  good  deal  had 
been  done  in  the  mean  time.  Mr.  Bradford 
had  returned  with  Starr  and  John  Porter, 
bringing  a  straw  bed  and  pillow,  a  coarse 
but  clean  pair  of  sheets,  and  a  blanket.  Good 
old  Mrs.  Porter  came  too,  full  of  pity  for  the 
forlorn,  sick  child,  and  carrying  a  kettle  of  tea, 
ready  milked  and  sugared. 

The  bed  had  been  made,  —  upon  the  floor,  to 
be  sure :   there  was  no  other  place  to  put  it, 


224        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

—  Dolly  had  been  given  some  medicine,  her 
fevered  face  and  hands  washed, -and  she  laid 
in  the  bed.  A  fire  had  been  kindled  without, 
and  the  tea  warmed  afresh  ;  and  when  Lem 
came  back  with  the  straw,  Mrs.  Porter  was 
just  offering  Dolly  a  drink.  She  took  it 
eagerly ;  but,  although  she  knew  Lem,  she 
would  not  speak  to  him,  and  soon  sank  again 
into  an  uneasy  sleep  or  stupor.  Lem  had 
brought  six  bundles  of  straw ;  and,  throwing 
them  down,  he  handed  Mr.  Stanton  some 
change,  saying  the  man  from  whom  he  had 
bought  them  could  let  him  have  no  more,  and 
had  given  him  back  that  money. 

Mr.  Stanton  privately  asked  John  Porter 
how  much  the  straw  should  have  cost,  and 
found  that  Lem  had  brought  him  the  right 
change.  So  here  was  something  gained :  the 
boy  had  been  true  to  his  trust  for  once. 

"  Now  we  will  go  to  work,"  said  Mr.  Stan- 
ton to  Lem ;  and  he  told  him  to  follow  him 
deeper  into  the  woods,  where  he  soon  cut 
down  a  dozen  or  so  of  tall,  slender  saplings, 


Uncle  Ruthverts  Work.  225 

and  bade  Lem  strip  them  of  their  leaves  and 
branches. 

When  these  were  finished,  some  long  strips 
of  birch  bark  were  cut  by  Mr.  Stanton,  while 
Lem  stood  looking  on,  and  wondering  if  it 
were  possible  the  gentleman  could  be  taking 
so  much  trouble  for  him  and  Dolly,  and  what 
in  the  world  he  could  be  going  to  do  with 
those  things.  That  was  soon  seen.  When  all 
had  been  made  ready  and  carried  to  the  hut, 
Mr.  Stanton  made  Lem  climb  upon  the  low 
roof,  and,  directing  him  how  to  lay  the  straw 
so  as  to  cover  the  worst  part,  bound  it  in  its 
place  with  the  saplings,  and  tied  them  down 
with  the  strips  of  birch.  Lem  wondered  and 
admired  as  the  strong,  firm  fingers  twisted 
and  knotted,  making  all  close  and  tight,  and 
at  last  broke  out  with, — 

"  I  say,  mister,  was  you  brought  up  to  roof- 
mending?  " 

"  Not  exactly,"  replied  Mr.  Stanton,  with  a 

smile  ;  "  but  I  have  had  to  contrive  many  a 

strange   roof  for  myself  and   others.     What 
t5 


226        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

should  you  say  to  a  roof  made  of  a  single 
leaf,  large  enough  to  shelter  twelve  men  from 
a  scorching  sun  ?  Or  to  one  of  snow ;  ay,  to 
roof,  walls,  floor,  all  of  snow,  —  making  a 
warm,  comfortable  home  too  ?  " 

"  Are  you  the  fellow  they  tell  about  that's 
hunted  lions  and  tigers  and  wild  beasts  ?  " 
asked  Lem,  gazing  with  new  interest  at  the 
gentleman. 

"  I  am  the  man,"  said  Mr.  Stanton. 

"  And  never  got  ate  up  ?  "  questioned  Lem. 
eagerly. 

"  I  am  here  to  answer  for  that,  though  I 
have  been  pretty  near  it  once  or  twice.  Should 
you  like*  to  hear  some  of  my  adventures  some 
time  ? " 

"  Wouldn't  I,  though  !  I  s'pose  you  couldn't 
tell  a  feller  now  ?  " 

"  Not  now,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  "  we  have 
done  the  best  we  can  for  the  roof,  and  I  must 
go  home ;  but  I  shall  come  over  again  this 
afternoon  to  see  Dolly,  and  I  will  tell  you  the 
story  of  a  tiger  hunt  then.     But" — looking 


Uncle  Ruthveri's  Work.  227 

about  him,  —  "  this  is  not  a  very  nice  place  to 
sit  down  and  tell  a  story  in,  with  all  these 
hones,  ashes,  and  hits  of  old  iron  lying  about." 

"  I'll  fix  it  up,  fustrate,"  exclaimed  Lem ; 
"  but  now,  I  say,  mister,"  and  Lem  hitched  up 
his  ragged  pantaloons,  scratched  his  head,  and 
dug  his  bare  toes  into  a  patch  of  moss  in  an 
unwonted  fit  of  shame. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  kindly. 

"  I  didn't  take  little  Shiny-hair's  cup,  now, 
I  didn't ;  and  I  wish  you  wouldn't  think  it." 

"  I  do  not  think  it,  Lem.  The  cup  is  found, 
and  I  do  not  believe  you  took  it." 

"Don't  you,  now?"  said  Lem,  looking  up; 
"  well,  I  thought  may  be  you  didn't  when  you 
gi'  me  the  money  for  the  straw." 

"  I  am  glad  to  know  that  I  may  trust  you, 
Lem,"  said  Mr.  Stanton. 

Mr.  Bradford,  Mrs.  Stanton,  and  the  Porters 
had  long  since  gone  away,  leaving  Mr.  Stanton 
to  finish  the  roof.  lie  walked  slowly  home- 
ward, wondering  if  he  had  that  morning  really 
gained  any  hold  on  these  wretched  children  ; 


228        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

or  if,  as  so  many  others  had  proved,  his  pains 
had  all  been  labor  thrown  away.  When  he 
reached  the  fireplace,  he  found  that  the  rest 
of  the  party  had  gone  home  ;  for  the  mending 
of  the  roof  had  been  a  good  two  hours'  work, 
and  it  was  now  nearly  Mrs.  Porter's  early  din- 
ner hour. 

When  Mr.  Bradford  left  Lena's  hovel,  and 
joined  his  wife  and  children,  he  found  his  little 
girls  very  eager  for  news  of  Dolly.  He  told 
them  of  all  that  had  been  done,  and  then  said,  — 

"  Bessie,  I  have  a  pleasant  surprise  for  you. 
Can  you  guess  what  it  may  be  ?  " 

"  I  know  what  I  would  like  it  to  be,  papa, 
but  I  suppose  it  couldn't ;  and  mamma  said  it 
was  not  best  to  wish  for  things  that  cannot  be." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Bradford,  "  suppose  you 
let  me  hear  what  you  would  like  it  to  be." 

"  Papa,  I  would  like  it  to  be  my  cup ;  but 
if  it  was,  I  would  be  too  surprised  and  too  glad 
for  any  thing,  and  I  try  not  to  think  too  much 
about  it." 

Mr.  Bradford  put  his  hand  into  his  pocket, 


uncle  RuthverCs  Work,  229 

and,  pulling  out  the  beloved  cup,  held  it  before 
the  delighted  eyes  of  his  little  daughter.  She 
gave  a  glad  cry,  and  the  next  moment  both 
small  hands  were  holding  fast  the  recovered 
treasure,  and  clasping  it  to  her  breast.  She 
even  kissed  it  in  her  joy  and  thankfulness. 
Then  papa  was  asked  when  and  how  he  had 
found  it, -and  told  the  whole  story.  Maggie 
and  Bessie  were  very  glad  to  hear  that  it  was 
probably  the  pedler  who  had  taken  the  cup ; 
for  since  they  had  been  trying  to  act  and  feel 
kindly  towards  Lem  and  Dolly,  they  were  anx- 
ious to  believe  as  much  good  and  as  little  ill 
of  them  as  possible. 

"  For  you  see,  papa,"  said  Maggie, "  you  see 
the  pedler  is  quite  a  stranger  to  us,  and  we 
know  Lem  and  Dolly  a  little.  It's  a  pretty 
poor  kind  of  a  way  to  be  acquainted,  to  be 
sure ;  but  then  we  are  pretty  interested  about 
them,  and  we  like  to  think  they  did  not  do  this 
one  bad  thing.  And  I  think  it  would  be  rather 
astonishing  if  Dolly  was  not  mad  when  Lem 
was  shut  up,  and  she  knew  he  had  not  taken 


230        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

Bessie's  cup.  I  would  have  been,  if  some  one 
had  shut  up  Fred  or  Harry,  and  I'm  afraid  I 
would  have  wanted  to  return  them  a  little  evil ; 
so  now  it  is  a  little  easier  to  forgive  her  about 
our  gardens." 

"  And  she  said  she  was  sorry  about  the  gar- 
dens," said  Bessie  ;  "  maybe  it  was  her  sorri- 
ness that  made  her  tell  where  my  cup  was. 
Oh,  my  dear,  dear  cup !  I  am  so  glad  it  has 
come  back." 

And  now  the  cup  must  have  a  good  washing 
in  the  spring ;  after  which,  Bessie  took  a  long 
drink  from  it.  Not  that  she  was  in  the  least 
thirsty,  but  it  was  such  a  pleasure  to  drink 
once  more  from  the  beloved  cup,  and  she 
thought  no  water  had  ever  tasted  so  delicious. 
Then  each  one  of  her  friends  was  obliged  to 
take  a  drink,  and  to  say  how  very  nice  it  was ; 
and  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  she  was  every  five 
minutes  asking  some  one  if  they  were  not 
thirsty,  and  if  she  could  persuade  them  to  say 
yes,  she  would  run  and  fill  the  cup.  So  much 
water  did  she  and  Maggie  find  it  necessary  to 


Uncle  Ruthverts  Work,  231 

drink,  and  so  much  did  they  persuade,  and 
even  bribe,  Frankie  to  take,  that  mamma  was 
obliged  to  put  a  stop  to  the  fun  lest  they  should 
make  themselves  sick. 

When  Mr.  Stanton  and  Mr.  Bradford  went 
up  to  the  hut  that  afternoon,  they  found  that 
Lem  had  been  as  good  as  his  word.  All  the 
old  bones  and  feathers,  bits  of  rusty  iron,  half- 
burnt  sticks,  and  ashes,  had  been  picked  up, 
and  put  out  of  sight.  Lem  bad  even  made  a 
poor  broom  out  of  some  dry  birch  twigs  and 
a  stick,  and  with  this  he  had  tried  to  sweep 
off  the  broad  slab  of  rock  on  which  the  house 
stood.  It  was  not  half  done,  to  be  sure  ;  Lem 
was  not  used  to  sweeping,  or  to  making  things 
tidy ;  but  he  thought  he  had  made  the  place 
very  fine  for  his  new  friends,  and  they  did  not 
fail  to  praise  and  admire.  Moreover,  Lem  had 
washed  his  face,  for  the  first  time  perhaps  in 
many  weeks  or  months ;  and,  although  he  had 
left  his  cheeks  all  streaked  and  channelled,  it 
was  at  least  an  attempt  at  something  better, 
and,  so  far,  even  this  was  promising. 


232        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

Dolly  was  awake,  but  quite  wild,  and  talked 
in  a  rambling  way  of  silver  cups  and  angels, 
of  gardens  and  music,  of  the  Ice  Glen  and.  the 
dark,  dark  night.  Her  fever  was  very  high, 
and  her  poor  head  rolled  from  side  to  side  ; 
but,  in  spite  of  her  restlessness,  she  could  not 
move  hand  or  foot,  for  the  terrible  pains  which 
racked  her  and  made  her  cry  out  on  the  slight- 
est motion. 

"  She's  awful  sick,  aint  she  ?  "  said  Lem,  as 
he  stood  beside  the  two  gentlemen,  and  saw 
with  what  grave  faces  they  watched  his  sister. 

"  She  is  very  sick,  Lem,"  said  Mr.  Bradford  ; 
"  too  sick  to  be  left  here  alone  with  you.  I  must 
go  and  sec  if  I  can  find  some  one  to  come  and 
take  care  of  her  to-night ;  "  and,  after  saying  a 
few  words  in  French  to  his  brother-in-law,  Mr. 
Bradford  walked  away. 

Mr.  Stanton  stayed  behind.  He  had  brought 
with  him  the  upper  half  of  an  old  window-sash 
which  he  had  begged  from  Mr.  Porter,  a  ham- 
mer, and  some  large  nails ;  and  ho  now  told 
Lem  they  must  go  to  work  again,  and  he  would 


Uncle  Ruthverts  Work,  233 

tell  the  promised  story  as  they  worked.  The 
sash  was  too  large  for  the  square  hole  in  tho 
side  of  the  house  which  served  for  a  window ; 
but  Mr.  Stanton  made  it  answer  for  the  time, 
hanging  it  by  strips  of  leather,  nailed  at  one 
end  to  the  sash,  at  the  other  to  the  boards 
above  the  window.  This  now  served  the  pur- 
pose, since  it  could  be  raised  or  let  down  as 
might  be  needed.  Then  the  crazy  door  was 
taken  down,  and  hung  anew  on  its  two  hinges  ; 
and,  as  the  old  latch  was  quite  worn  out  and 
useless,  Mr.  Stanton  fashioned  a  wooden  but- 
ton by  which  it  might  be  fastened. 

Meanwhile  he  told  in  low  tones,  that  Dolly 
might  not  be  disturbed,  the  story  of  a  famous 
tiger  hunt.  Lem  listened  eagerly,  —  listened 
with  cars,  eyes,  and  mouth,  if  such  a  thing 
could  be  ;  for  the  two  latter  were  so  wide  open 
that  he  seemed  to  be  drinking  in  the  talc  by 
these  as  well  as  by  the  proper  channel.  But 
Mr.  Stanton  soon  found  he  was  not  to  be  de- 
pended upon  for  work.  Accustomed  to  an 
idle,  lazy  life,  Lem  could  not  fix  his  attention 


234        Bessie  among"  the  Mountains, 

and  employ  his  hands  at  the  same  time.  If  Mr. 
Stanton  reminded  him  of  his  work,  he  would 
hammer  or  cut  away  for  one  moment ;  the  next 
his  hands  would  be  clasping  his  knees  in  an 
ecstasy  of  delight  and  wonder  at  the  strange 
but  true  tale  he  was  listening  to. 

The  gentleman  let  it  pass,  however.  Lem's 
help  was  not  of  much  account  at  the  best ;  and 
his  object  just  now  was  to  gain  a  hold  on  the 
boy,  and  interest  him.  Teaching,  advice,  or  re- 
proof might  come  by  and  by,  when  he  had 
made  Lem  feel  he  meant  to  be  a  friend  to  him. 

Nevertheless,  Lem  had  not  the  least  idea  that 
he  had  not  done  his  own  share  of  the  work ; 
and  when  the  door  and  make-shift  window 
were  both  in  their  places  he  exclaimed,  — 

"  We  did  fix  it  up  fustrate ;  didn't  we  mis- 
ter ?  " 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  it,"  said  Mr.  Stanton, 
looking  about  him.  "  What  have  you  there, 
Lem  ? "  and  he  pointed  to  four  small  rustic 
boxes  standing  at  the  side  of  the  hut.  They 
were  made  of  twigs  and  bits  of  wood  curiously 


Uncle  Ruthven  s  Work.  235 

woven  together,  and  were  filled  with  earth. 
Two  of  these  held  nothing  else,  in  each  of  the 
others  grew  two  scraggy  little  plants. 

"  Oh,  them  !  "  said  Lem,  "  them's  nothing 
but  Doll's  pots.  She  made  'em  at  odd  times, 
always  had  a  knack  that  way  ;  and  them  things 
growin'  in  'em  is  marygools,  I  guess.  She 
picked  up  a  paper  with  some  seeds  in  it,  on 
the  road  one  day,  and  notliin'  would  serve  her 
but  to  plant  'em.  So  she  made  the  pots  for 
'em  and  stuck  'em  in,  but  none  of  'em  come 
to  no-thin',  only  them  two.  I  tell  her  there's 
lots  of  better  lookin'  things  in  the  woods,  to 
be  had  for  the  pickin' ;  but  somehow  she  sets  a 
heap  by  them  old  things,  and  waters  'em  every 
day. 

"  Then  you  must  take  care  of  them  for  her, 
while  she  is  sick  ;  won't  you  ?  "  said  Mr.  Stan- 
ton. 

"  S'pose  so,"  said  Lem ;  "  but  they'll  never 
be  no  good." 


XIII. 


A    RIDE    ON    THE    SHEAVES. 


R.  BRADFORD  had  gone  in  search  of 
Mr.  Porter  ;  but  when  he  reached  the 
Lake  House,  he  did  not  find  him 
there ;  for  this  was  harvest  time,  and  the  old 
man,  still  strong  and  hearty,  was  out  in  the 
fields,  helping  his  sons  and  hired  men  to 
mow  and  carry  in  the  grain.  The  whole  flock 
of  little  ones,  boys  and  girls,  were  out  in  the 
harvest  fields  too,  and  there  went  papa. 

What  a  pretty,  joyous  sight  it  was !  At 
the  farther  side  of  the  fields,  were  the  reapers, 
cutting  with  long,  regular  sweeps  the  yellow 
grain  ;  while,  nearer  at  hand,  were  others  bind- 
ing it  in  sheaves.  Among  these  were  Harry, 
Fred,  and  Hafed. 

Upon  an  overturned  sheaf,  sat  mammy,  her 


A  Ride  on  the  Sheaves*  237 

baby  on  her  knee,  the  little  one  crowing  and 
laughing,  and  shaking  her  dimpled.hands,  each 
of  which  grasped  half  a  dozen  cars  of  wheat, 
a  new  and  wonderful  plaything  to  baby's  eyes, 
as  they  bobbed  their  heads  up  and  down  with 
the  motion. 

Near  by,  where  the  wheat  still  lay  as  it  had 
been  cut,  in  long  even  rows,  was  Frankie,  in 
busy  mischief  as  usual,  snatching  up  whole 
handfuls  of  it,  and  tossing  it  above  his  head 
with  shouts  of  glee.  Mr.  Porter  would  not 
have  him  stopped  ;  no  one  minded  a  little  more 
trouble,  provided  the  children  had  their  fun,  he 
6aid.  The  old  man  himself  stood  by  the  side 
of  the  great  ox  cart,  which  was  filled  with 
golden  sheaves ;  and  on  the  top  of  these  Mag- 
gie and  Bessie  sat  in  state,  their  hands  and 
round  straw  hats  filled  with  bright,  red  pop- 
pies. John  Porter  was  about  to  give  them  a 
ride  up  to  the  great  barn  where  the  wheat  was 
to  be  stored. 

Mr.  Bradford  stood  for  a  moment  looking  at 
it  all,  then  walked  up  to  Mr.  Porter. 


238        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

"  Mr.  Porter,"  he  said,  "  can  you  tell  me 
where  I  can  find  some  one  who  will  go  and 
nurse  that  poor  girl  ?  She  is  too  ill  to  be  left 
with  no  one  but  her  brother  to  take  care  of 
her." 

Mr.  Porter  shook  his  head. 

"  I  don't  know  of  a  soul  that  would  be  will- 
ing to  go.  'Taint  a  place  where  one  would 
care  to  pass  the  night,  with  the  chance,  too, 
of  Owen  coming  home." 

"  If  good  pay  could  induce  any  one  to  do 
it,  that  shall  not  be  wanting,"  said  Mr.  Brad- 
ford. "  Is  there  no  one  in  the  village  who 
would  do  it  for  that  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  do  know  of  a  poor  woman  who 
might  be  glad  to  earn  a  little  that  way,"  said 
Mr.  Porter ;  "  but  we  could  not  get  at  her 
to-night.  It  is  too  late  now  to  go  down  the 
mountain,  with  the  roads  washed  as  they 
were  by  the  rain  of  night  before  last.  There's 
no  moon,  and  it  would  not  be  safe  coming 
back ;  but  I'll  send  for  her  in  the  morning,  if 
you  say  so." 


A  Ride  on  the  Sheaves,  239 

"  I  do  say  so,"  replied  Mr.  Bradford  ;  "  but 
what  are  we  to  do  for  to-night  ?  " 

Maggie  and  Bessie  heard  no  more ;  for  just 
then  John  Porter  gave  the  word  to  his  oxen, 
and  they  started  off,  leaving  papa  and  Mr. 
Porter  still  talking. 

What  a  pleasant  ride  that  was :  out  of  the 
field  where  the  bars  had  been  let  down ;  past 
other  fields  ready,  or  nearly  ready,  for  the  har- 
vesting; pale  green  oats,  and  golden  wheat, 
the  white,  sweet-scented  buckwheat,  and  the 
tall  Indian  corn  ;  then  through  the  orchard 
where  a  flock  of  sheep  were  feeding,  past  the 
locust  grove,  and  then  into  the  farmyard ; 
stopping  at  last  between  the  open  doors  of 
the  great  barn ! 

But,  in  spite  of  it  all,  our  little  girls  were 
rather  thoughtful  as  they  jogged  slowly  on. 

"  Maggie,"  said  Bessie,  presently,  "  won't  it 
be  dreadful  if  papa  can't  get  any  one  to  take 
care  of  poor  sick  Dolly  to-night  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Maggie :  "  I  wonder  what  she 
will  do." 


240        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

"  If  I  was  big.  and  mamma  would  let  me, 
I'd  go  myself,"  said  Bessie. 

"  Would  you  ?  "  said  Maggie  ;  "  well,  I  am 
afraid  I  wouldn't :  so  it's  better  that  I  am  not 
big,  'cause  then  I  needn't  have  a  troubled 
conscience  for  not  doing  it." 

They  were  both  silent  for  a  moment  or  two. 
John  Porter  was  walking  at  his  oxen's  heads, 
out  of  hearing,  if  the  children  lowered  their 
voices. 

"  Bessie,"  said  Maggie,  in  a  whisper, "  John 
Porter  might  do  it.  mightn't  he?  He  is  big 
and  strong  enough." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Bessie,  "  and  he  heard 
what  papa  said  too ;  but  he  didn't  say  he'd  go. 
Perhaps  it  didn't  come  into  his  head.  Shall 
we  try  to  put  it  there,  Maggie  ?  " 

"  Yes  :  maybe  you  can  coax  him  to  do  it." 

"  I'll  try,  and  see  if  I  can  make  him  com- 
passioned  of  poor  Dolly.  John,"  she  said, 
in  a  louder  tone,  "  you  are  very  glad  you  are 
well  and  strong;  are  you  not?  " 

"  Surelv,"  said  John. 


A  Ride  on  the  Sheaves,  241 

"  And  you  wouldn't  like  to  be  sick  at  all, 
would  you,  John  ?  " 

"Not  one  bit,"  said  John.  "  I'd  scarce 
know  myself,  for  I  never  was  sick  in  my  life, 
that  I  remember." 

"Then  I  s'pose  you  feel  very  thankful 
for  it,  and  as  if  you'd  like  to  help  make  sick 
people  as  well  as  you  are ;  don't  you  ?  "  said 
Bessie. 

"  Guess  I  wouldn't  make  much  hand  at 
that,"  answered  John. 

"  But  you  are  big  and  strong,  John." 

"  Yes,  I'm  big  and  strong  enough ;  but  it 
takes  more  than  that  to  make  a  good  nurse. 
If  it  came  in  my  way  to  do  a  good  turn  for 
a  sick  body,  and  there  was  no  one  else  to  do 
it,  why  I'd  lend  a  hand  ;  but  I  don't  know  as 
they'd  thank  me  for  it." 

"  Oh  yes  they  would,  John,"  said  Maggie, 
eagerly ;  "  if  I  was  sick  and  had  no  one  to  take 
care  of  me,  and  you  came  to  do  it,  I'd  thank 
you  ever  so  much." 

"  Well,  I'll  do  it  when  you  come  to  that 


16 


242        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

pass,"  said  John,  without  the  least  idea  what 
the  little  girls  were  driving  at. 

"  He  don't  seem  to  understand  yet,"  whis- 
pered Maggie  to  her  sister ;  "  try  him  with  the 
<  Golden  Rule.'  " 

"  John,"  said  Bessie,  "  are  you  not  very 
fond  of  doing  as  you  would  be  done  by  ?  " 

"As  fond  as  most  folks,  I  guess,"  said 
John.     "  'Gee,  there  !   gee,  Whitefoot ! " 

Bessie  waited  till  they  had  passed  through 
the  gate  of  the  orchard,  then  began  again. 

"  John,  if  there  was  a  chance  to  do  as  you 
would  be  done  by,  and  you  did  not  think  of  it, 
would  you  like  some  one  to  tell  you  of  it  ?  " 

John  looked  round  at  her  and  laughed. 

"  If  there's  any  thing  you  want  me  to  do  for 
you,  out  with  it.  It's  no  good  beating  about 
the  bush.  You  know  I  always  like  to  do  for 
you  what  I  can." 

"  Yes :  you  are  very  good  to  us,"  said  Bes- 
sie ;  "  but  it  was  not  us  :  it  was  Dolly.  Don't 
you  think  it  would  be  doing  as  you  would  be 
done  by  to  go  and  take  care  of  her  to-night  ?  M 


A  Ride  on  the  Sheaves,  243 

"Whew!  that's  it,  is  it?"  said  John. 
"  Maybe  it  would  be  ;  but  that  would  be  a  good 
thing  to  see  me  taking  care  of  Dolly  Owen ; " 
and  John  laughed  loud  and  long. 

Bessie  was  displeased,  and  drew  herself  up 
with  a  little  dignified  air. 

"  I  don't  think  he  is  coaxed  a  bit,"  she  whis- 
pered ;  "  he  is  very  hard-hearted." 

"  No,"  said  Maggie  :  "  I  don't  believe  he  is 
the  kind  to  be  coaxed." 

"  Then  I'll  have  to  be  a  little  strict  with 
him,  and  show  him  it's  his  duty,"  said  Bessie, 
in  the  same  tone. 

"Yes,  to  let  him  see  he  ought  to  do  it, 
whether  he  likes  it  or  not,"  said  Maggie ; 
"  maybe  he's  never  been  taught  that." 

"  John,"  said  Bessie,  folding  her  little  hands 
gravely  in  her  lap,  and  trying  to  look  sternly 
at  the  young  man,  "  perhaps  you  don't  know 
that  if  we  know  wc  ought  to  do  a  thing  and 
don't  do  it,  our  Father  is  not  very  pleased 
with  us." 

"  May  be  so,"  said  John  ;  "  but  I  don't  feel 
it's  my  duty  to  go  and  take  care  of  Dolly." 


244       Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

"  Whose  duty  is  it,  then  ?  "  asked  Bessie. 

"Not  any  one's  that's  likely  to  do  it,  1 
guess." 

Bessie  was  in  despair,  but  she  thought  she 
would  try  a  little  more  severity. 

"  John,"  she  said,  "  when  you  are  poor  and 
ragged,  and  sick  and  bad,  I  hope  some  one  will 
have  pity  of  you,  and  go  take  care  of  you." 

"  I  hope  so  too ;  but  I  don't  feel  there's  any 
call  on  me  to  go  and  look  after  that  thieving 
beggar,  nor  for  you  to  trouble  yourselves  about 
her,  after  all  she's  done  to  you,"  answered  John. 

"  John,"  said  Bessie,  solemnly,  "  I'm  afraid 
we  don't  think  you  quite  so  very  nice  as  we 
did  this  morning ;  and  I'm  afraid  you  are  one 
of  those  to  whom  our  Lord  will  say,  '  I  was 
sick,  and  ye  visited  me  not.'  " 

But  John  was  only  amused  at  her  displeas- 
ure, and  laughed  aloud  again. 

Neither  of  the  children  spoke  till  they 
reached  the  barn,  when  John  came  to  the 
side  of  the  cart  and  lifted  them  down. 

"  Well,  you  are  just  two  of  the  funniest, 


A  Ride  on  the  Sheaves.  245 

forgivingest  little  things,"  he  said,  as  he  put 
Bessie  on  her  feet. 

Bessie  deigned  no  answer ;  but  with  an  air 
of  great  displeasure  turned  away,  and  stood 
at  a  little  distance  with  Maggie,  watching  the 
men  pitch  the  sheaves  up  into  the  loft. 

"  Are  you  going  back  with  me  ? "  asked 
John,  when  he  was  ready  to  start  for  the  har- 
vest-field again. 

"  No,"  Bessie  answered,  rather  shortly. 

"  Why,  you're  not  offended  with  me,  are 
you  ? "  said  John,  "  and  all  along  of  that 
ragamuffin  up  there." 

"  We're  displeased  with  you,"  said  Bessie. 
"  It's  right  to  be  displeased  with  people  when 
you  tell  them  what  is  right,  and  they  don't  do 
it ;  but  if  you're  going  to  repent,  we'll  forgive 
you." 

John  answered  with  another  "  ha-ha." 

"  Well,  no,"  he  said ;  "  I  don't  think  I'm 
ready  for  repentance  in  that  line  yet.  I  hope 
I'll  never  do  any  thing  worse  than  refusing 
to  take  care  of  a  sick  beggar." 


246       Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

"  I  hope  so  too,"  said  Bessie,  reprovingly. 
"  That's  quite  worse  enough,"  and  she  and 
Maggie  walked  out  of  the  farmyard,  and 
turned  into  the  lane  which  led  up  to  the 
house. 

"  Hallo  !  "  John  called  out,  mischievously ; 
"if  you  feel  so  bad  about  Dolly,  why  don't 
you  ask  your  father  or  uncle  to  go  up  and  see 
after  her  ?  " 

Neither  of  the  little  girls  turned  their  heads, 
but  walked  straight  on  in  the  most  dignified 
silence,  followed  by  the  sound  of  John's 
merriment. 

"  That's  a  little  too  much,"  said  Maggie, 
when  they  were  beyond  hearing ;  "  idea  of 
papa  or  Uncle  Ruthven  staying  all  night  in 
that  dirty  place  !  " 

Bessie  did  not  like  the  idea  either,  but  her 
little  head  was  puzzled.  If  she  thought  it 
right  for  John  Porter  to  go,  ought  she  not  to 
think  it  right  for  her  papa  or  uncle  ?  She 
did  not  at  all  thank  John  for  putting  the 
thought  into  her  head:  it  was  fresh  cause  01 


A  Ride  on  the  Sheaves,  247 

offence  against  him  ;  but  now  that  it  was  there, 
she  could  not  shut  it  out. 

"  Maggie,"  she  said,  "  I  wonder  if  we  ought 
not  to  put  it  into  papa's  or  Uncle  Ruthven's 
mind  ? " 

"  Pooh  !  no,"  said  Maggie  ;  "  they've  sense 
enough  to  think  it  out  for  themselves  if  they 
ought  to  go  :  but  I  don't  think  John  Porter  is 
very  sensible  ;  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  guess  I  won't  say  he's  unsensible  just 
now,"  said  Bessie.  "I'm  'fraid  I  feel  most 
too  mad." 

"  What  difference  does  that  make  ?  "  asked 
Maggie. 

"  'Cause  mamma  said,  when  I  was  angry  it 
was  better  not  to  say  unkind  things  about  a 
person ;  and  then  when  I  was  pleased  with 
them  again  I  would  see  that  the  unkind  things 
were  only  in  my  own  heart,  and  not  quite  true. 
She  didn't  say  just  those  very  words,  but  that 
was  what  she  meant." 

"  I'm  never,  never  going  to  be  pleased  with 
John  Porter  again,"  said  Maggie,  shaking  her 


248       Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

head  very  decidedly.  "  Oh  !  there's  Mrs.  Por- 
ter going  to  feed  the  chickens ;  let's  go  help 
her." 

The  chickens  had  been  fed  and  had  gone 
to  roost,  and  the  little  girls  had  been  with 
Dolly  and  Fanny  to  the  pasture  to  see  the 
cows  milked,  before  they  went  back  to  the 
house,  and  met  Uncle  Ruthven  just  coming 
home.  They  ran  up  to  him,  and  each  taking 
a  hand,  asked  for  news  of  Dolly.  It  was  not 
good,  —  worse,  if  any  thing,  than  the  last ;  and 
they  looked  rather  sober  as  they  walked  with 
their  uncle  up  the  steps  of  the  piazza,  where 
all  the  rest  of  the  family  were  gathered. 

"  Well,"  said  Uncle  Ruthven  to  papa, "  have 
you  had  any  success  ?  " 

"  Not  the  least,"  said  Mr.  Bradford ;  and 
then  he  told  what  Mr.  Porter  had  said. 

"  She  must  be  looked  after  to-night,"  said 
Mr.  Stanton.  "  Lem  does  not  know  what  to 
do  for  her,  and  is  frightened  half  out  of  his 
senses  at  the  thought  of  being  alone  with  her. 
It  would  be  cruel  to  leave  them." 


A  Ride  on  the  Sheaves.  249 

"  Yes,"  said  Maggie,  indignantly  ;  "  we  were 
trying  to  make  John  Porter  see  it  was  his  duty 
to  go  and  take  care  of  her,  but  he  would  not. 
fie  has  not  a  bit  of  compassion." 

"  We  said  every  thing  we  could,  till  we  were 
quite  despaired  of  him,"  put  in  Bessie ;  "  but 
it  was  all  of  no  use." 

"  What  makes  you  think  John  Porter  ought 
to  go  and  take  care  of  her  ? "  asked  Uncle 
Ruth  ven. 

"  Oh  !  'cause  he's  such  a  big,  strong  fellow," 
said  Maggie,  "  so  we  thought  it  was  his  duty ; 
but  he  would  not  be  put  in  mind  of  it." 

"Well,"  said  Uncle  Ruthven,  "there  is 
another  big,  strong  fellow  whom  you  have  put 
in  mind  of  his  duty.  He  had  an  inkling  of  it 
before,  but  I  must  say  he  was  not  very  willing 
to  see  it." 

"Ruthven!"  exclaimed  his  wife,  "you  do 
not  mean  you  are  going  to  that  dreadful  place 
to  pass  the  night !  " 

"  I  do  not  see  that  Maggie  and  Bessie  have 
left  me  any  choice,"  he  answered,  smiling,  and 


2  jo        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

sitting  down  on  the  steps  beside  her,  "  at  least 
not  if  being  a  big,  strong  fellow  makes  it  one's 
duty  to  go." 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Ruthven !  "  said  Maggie,  "  wo 
never  meant  you." 

"Perhaps  not,  Maggie ;  but  the  shoe  fits,  so 
I  think  I  must  put  it  on." 

"  Is  there  no  one  we  could  find  to  do  it  if 
they  were  well  paid  ? "  said  his  wife,  plead- 
ingly. 

"  I  expect  to  be  well  paid,  love,"  he  said  in 
a  low  tone  and  with  another  smile.  "  I  shall 
have  all  the  reward  I  can  ask." 

Little  Bessie  was  standing  at  Mrs.  Stanton's 
knee,  twisting  one  over  another  her  aunt's  soft, 
white  fingers,  and  as  her  uncle  spoke  she  looked 
up  brightly. 

"  We  know  what  he  means,  don't  we,  dear 
Auni  Bessie  ?  He  means  the  cup  of  cold  water 
given  in  Jesus'  name  shall  have  its  reward.  I 
think  Uncle  Ruthven  is  taking  up  a  jewel." 

"  Thank  you,  darling,"  said  Aunt  Bessie, 
with  a  quiver  in  her  voice. 


A  Ride  on  the  Sheaves,  251 

"  For  what,  Aunt  Bessie  ?  " 

But  Aunt  Bessie  only  smiled  and  kissed  her, 
and  Uncle  Ruthven  said,  — 

u  I  shall  borrow  the  Colonel's  camp  chair 
with  his  permission,  and  take  some  candles 
and  a  book,  so  I  shall  do  very  well  on  this  fine, 
still  night." 

"  And  I  shall  keep  awake  all  night  and  think 
about  you,  Uncle  Ruthven,"  said  Maggie  ;  "  so 
if  you  feel  lonely  you  can  know  my  soul  is  over 
there  with  you." 

So  when  tea  was  over,  Uncle  Ruthven  with 
a  lantern,  the  Colonel's  camp-chair,  and  some 
other  needful  things  for  Dolly,  went  over  to 
pass  the  night  at  the  wretched  hut. 

The  little  girls  stood  beside  Aunt  Bessie  and 
watched  him  as  he  walked  away,  and  Bessie, 
taking  Mrs.  Stanton's  hand  in  hers,  laid  her 
cheek  upon  it  in  her  own  caressing  way,  and 
said, — 

"  Aunt  Bessie,  I  think  we'll  all  have  to  try 
to  bear  Dolly's  burden  to  night." 

"  It's  too  bad  !  "  exclaimed  Maggie  ;  "  it's  an 


252        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

awful  burden  to  bear,  it  makes  me  feel  home- 
sick, and  I  want  to  cry  about  it,  and  I  just  will 
—  there  now  !  "  and  Maggie  burst  into  tears. 

Mamma  came,  and  after  a  little  petting  car- 
ried them  off  to  bed,  for  they  were  both  tired. 
But  on  the  way  she  had  to  stop  in  the  kitchen 
to  speak  to  Mrs.  Porter,  and  there  her  little 
girls  followed  her  and  found  John. 

Now  we  know  Maggie  had  said  she  "  never, 
never  meant  to  be  pleased  with  John  again ; " 
but  when  he  called  to  them,  and  said  he  had  a 
treat  for  them  the  next  day,  she  somehow 
found  herself,  she  did  not  quite  know  how,  talk- 
ing away  to  him,  and  begging  to  know  what  it 
was,  as  if  she  had  never  been  displeased  with 
him  in  her  life. 

But  after  she  was  in  bed  and  mamma  had 
gone,  she  suddenly  popped  up  her  head  and 
said,  — 

"  Bessie,  what  do  you  think  ?  I  went  and 
forgot  I  was  mad  with  John  Porter.  Now,  what 
shall  I  do  about  it  ?  " 

"  I  guess  you'll  have  to  stay  unmad,"  saH 
Bessie,  sleepily. 


A  Ride  on  the  Sheaves.  253 

"  Yes,  I  s'pose  I  will,"  said  Maggie  ;  "  and  I 
believe.  I'm  rather  glad  of  it.  I  don't  feel  very 
nice  when  I  keep  displeased  with  people,  and 
John  is  real  good  to  us,  if  he  wouldn't  go  stay 
with  Dolly.  Are  you  going  to  stay  awake  all 
night,  and  think  about  Uncle  Ruthven  ?  " 

"  I'd  like  to,"  said  Bessie  ;  "  but  I'm  'fraid 
[  can't.  I'm  so  tired  and  sleepy,  my  eyes 
won't  stay  open." 

"  Mine  will,"  said  Maggie.  "  I'm  going  to 
make  them.  I  don't  mean  to  sleep  a  single 
wink,  but  just  think  about  Uncle  Ruthven  all 
she  time.  Isn't  he  kind  and  good,  Bessie? 
John  Porter  is  pretty  good  too :  I  wonder  where 
he's  going  to  take  us  to-morrow,  and  if  mamma 
will  let  us  go,  —  and  s'pose  —  maybe  —  Uncle 
Ruthven  in  the  —  rocks  —  and  I'm  — not  — 
going"  — 

"Maggie,"  said  Uncle  Ruthven,  the  next 
morning, "  I  rather  think  I  missed  the  company 
of  those  constant  thoughts  you  promised  me 
last  night,  at  least  for  part  of  the  time." 

Maggie  climbed  on  her  uncle's  knee,  put  her 


Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

arms  about  his  neck  and  her  lips  very  close  to 
his  ear,  and  whispered, — 

"  Please  don't  tell  any  one,  Uncle  Rnthven ; 
but  I  am  afraid  I  did  go  to  sleep  for  a  few  min- 
utes last  night.     I  didn't  mean  to,  but  I  did  " 


XIV. 


BLA  CKBERR  TING. 


"  ''^^^lAMMA,   mamma,   mamma  !  "    cried 
?w/|K   Maggie  and  Bessie,  dancing  into  the 
room  with  sparkling  eyes  and  glow- 
ing cheeks. 

"  What  is  it,  Sunbeams  ?  "  asked  mamma. 
"  Oh  !  a  blackberry  party,  mamma,  —  such  a 
splendid  blackberry  party  !  —  and  we  are  all  to 
go  if  you  will  let  us.  John  is  going  to  take  us ; 
and  Dolly  and  Fanny  are  going,  and  Jane,  too, 
if  you  would  like  to  have  her.  Can  we  go,  can 
we  ?    Oh,  say  yes,  mamma  !  " 

"  And  please  don't  say  I  am  too  little,  mam- 
ma," said  Bessie.  "John  will  take  very  good 
care  of  me,  and  carry  mc  over  all  the  hard 
places.  And  if  we  pick  more  berries  than  we 
want  to  eat  for  tea,  Mrs.  Porter  is  going  to 


256        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

make  them  into  blackberry  jam  for  us  to  take 
home  with  us.  So  you  see  it  will  be  very  use- 
ful, as  well  as  very  pleasant,  for  us  to  go." 

"  Yery  well,"  said  mamma,  "  that  being  the 
case,  I  think  I  must  let  you  go." 

Half  an  hour  later  the  party  started,  armed 
with  baskets  and  tin  pails.  Away  they  went, 
laughing  and  singing,  by  the  lake  road,  and 
then  down  the  side  of  the  mountain  to  a  spot 
where  John  said  the  blackberry  bushes  grew 
very  thick.  The  way  was  pretty  rough,  and 
not  only  Bessie,  but  Maggie  also,  was  glad  of 
John's  help  now  and  then.  Indeed,  Bessie 
rode  upon  his  shoulder  for  a  great  part  of  the 
way. 

The  blackberries  were  "  thick  as  hops  "  when 
they  came  upon  them,  —  some  still  green,  some 
red  or  half  ripe,  others  as  black  as  ink ;  and 
these  the  children  knew  were  what  they  must 
pick.  The  ringers  of  large  and  small  were 
soon  at  work,  but  Maggie  and  Bessie  did  not 
find  it  quite  as  great  fun  as  they  expected. 

"  Ou,  ou  !  "  exclaimed  Maggie,  as  she  plunged 


Blackberrying.  257 

her  hand  into  the  first  bush.  "  Why,  there  are 
horrid  prickers  on  it !  " 

"  And  on  mine  too,"  cried  Bessie.  "  They 
stick  me  like  every  thing.  Oh,  my  finger  is 
bleeding! " 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Fanny  ;  "  you  must  be 
careful :  blackberry  bushes  are  full  of  thorns." 

Maggie  and  Bessie  had  not  bargained  for  the 
thorns,  and  felt  somehow  as  if  they  had  been 
rather  imposed  upon ;  but  they  picked  away 
more  carefully.  Now  and  then  a  berry  found 
its  way  into  a  small  mouth  instead  of  into  the 
pails,  and  very  ripe  and  juicy  it  tasted. 

By  and  by  Bessie  gave  a  little  sigh  and  said, — 

"  Maggie,  do  you  think  it  is  so  very  nice  ?  " 

"  I'm  trying  to  think  it  is,"  said  Maggie ; 
"  but  they  do  scratch  awfully,  don't  they  ? 
and  the  sun  is  pretty  hot  too.  How  many 
have  you,  Bessie  ?  " 

"  I  guess  about  five  hundred,  —  maybe  it's  a 
thousand,"  said  Bessie.  "  Can  you  count 
them  ?  " 

"  Let's  sit  down  there  in  the  shade  and  do 

17 


258        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

it,"  said  Maggie.  "  One,  two,  three,  four,  — 
there's  seventeen,  Bessie.  That's  a  pretty  good 
many." 

"  Is  it  most  a  thousand,  Maggie  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Maggie,  "  I'm  afraid  it  will  take 
about  fifty  more  to  make  a  thousand.  Here's 
Bob ;  we'll  ask  him,"  as  Bob  and  Hafed 
came  by  with  their  baskets.  "  Bob,  Bessie 
has  seventeen  berries  ;  how  many  more  will  it 
take  to  make  a  thousand  ?  " 

"  Seventeen  from  a  thousand,"  said  Bob, 
"  why  it  will  take  —  nine  hundred  —  and  — 
and  —  eighty-three.  You  haven't  the  begin- 
ning of  a  thousand  there  yet." 

"  Have  I  enough  to  make  a  pot  of  jam  ? " 
asked  Bessie,  wistfully,  looking  into  her  pail. 
"  Your  mother  said  she  would  make  me  a  pot 
of  my  own  if  I  brought  enough  berries." 

"  A  small  pot  it  would  be,"  said  Bob,  laugh- 
ing. "  Take  two  to  show  the  pattern,  I  guess," 
and  he  ran  off. 

Hafed  lingered  behind.  He  understood 
enough   to   know  that   Bessie  was   disturbed 


Blackberrying.  259 

because  she  Lad  so  few  berries  ;  and  suddenly 
emptying  his  basket,  which  was  about  a  third 
full,  into  her  pail,  he  said, — 

"  Me  blackberry  pick  Missy  Bess,  all  give." 

"Oh!  no,  Hafed,"  said  Bessie.  "I  thank 
you  very  much,  but  it  wouldn't  be  fair  to  take 
your  berries." 

"  Please,  missy,  make  Hafed  feel  good,"  he 
answered,  holding  his  basket  behind  him  when 
Bessie  would  have  poured  the  berries  back. 
"  Me  much  find ;  bring,  too,  some  Missy 
Mag  —  "  by  which  he  meant  he  would  bring 
some  more  to  Maggie,  —  and  he  went  after  Bob. 

"  Oh !  you're  tired,  are  you  ? "  said  Jane, 
turning  around  to  look  what  her  young  charges 
were  doing,  and  seeing  them  on  the  rock. 
"  Maybe  you'd  like  a  little  lunch  too ;  and 
here's  some  biscuits,  and  a  couple  of  cookies 
your  mother  told  me  to  bring  lest  you  should 
be  hungry.  Then  you  can  eat  some  of  your 
berries ;  or,  stay,  I'll  give  you  some  of  mine  so 
jrou  may  keep  all  your  own." 

So  the  kind  nurse  opened  the  paper  contain- 


260       Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

ing  the  biscuits,  and  spread  it  on  the  flat  stone 
on  which  the  children  sat;  next  she  pulled 
two  broad  mullein  leaves,  and  put  a  handful  of 
berries  on  each,  and  then  having  produced  the 
drinking  cup  she  always  carried  when  the 
children  went  on  an  expedition,  she  asked  John 
where  she  should  find  a  stream,  and  one  being 
near  at  hand  as  usual,  the  cup  was  soon  filled 
and  placed  beside  the  other  things. 

"  There,"  said  Jane,  "  I  don't  believe  Queen 
Victoria  herself  had  a  better  set-out  when  she 
went  blackberrying." 

The  children  thought  not ;  and  the  rest  and 
unexpected  little  lunch  made  them  both  feel 
refreshed  and  bright  again. 

"  Bessie,"  said  Maggie,  as  they  sat  content- 
edly eating  it,  "  do  you  not  think  foreigner 
boys  are  a  great  deal  nicer  than  home-made 
boys  ? " 

"  What  does  foreigner  mean  ?  "  asked  Bes 
sie. 

"  It  means  to  come  out  of  another  country. 
Hafed  is  a  foreigner,  and  that  little  French  boy 


Blackberry  ing.  261 

who  was  so  polite  to  us  on  board  the  steam- 
boat was  a  foreigner,  and  so  is  Carl." 

Carl  was  Uncle  Ruthven's  Swedish  servant. 

'.'  Are  not  Harry  and  Fred  home-made  boys, 
Maggie  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but,  of  course,  I  don't  mean  them : 
they're  our  brothers  ;  but,  of  example,  don't  you 
think  Hafed  is  a  great  deal  nicer  and  politer 
than  Bob  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  Bob  laughed  at  me  'cause  I  had 
only  a  few  berries  ;  and  Hafed  did  not  laugh  a 
bit,  but  gave  me  his." 

"  Midget  and  Bess,"  came  in  Fred's  clear 
tones  from  a  little  distance,  "  come  over  here  ; 
here  are  lots  of  berries,  lying  on  top  of  one 
another  almost,  ripe  and  sweet;  and  calling 
out, l  Come  pick  me ! '  They  hang  low,  so  we'll 
leave  them  for  you,  and  it's  nice  and  shady 
too." 

"  Fred  is  a  nice  home-made  boy ;  is  ho 
not  ?  "  said  Bessie,  as  they  obeyed  his  call. 

"  Yes,  and  Harry  too,"  said  Maggie.  "  I 
did  not  mean  to  pass  any  remarks  of  them." 


262        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

There  were  indeed  lots  of  blackberries  in 
the  spot  to  which  Fred  had  called  them ;  and, 
screened  from  the  rays  of  the  sun,  they  picked 
them  with  comfort;  besides  which,  many  a 
large  berry  which  they  did  not  pick  themselves 
found  its  way  into  their  pails  ;  so  that,  by  the 
time  Hafed  came  with  his  offering  to  Maggie, 
her  own  berries  made  quite  a  show,  and  she 
steadily  refused  to  take  his. 

Then  John  said  they  must  be  moving  home- 
ward. They  went  by  a  different  road  from 
that  by  which  they  had  come,  stopping  every 
now  and  then,  where  the  berries  were  fine  and 
thick,  to  add  a  few  more  to  their  store. 

Seeing  some  which  they  thought  particularly 
fine,  the  rest  of  the  party  climbed  a  steep  rocky 
path  to  get  them ;  while  Maggie  and  Bessie, 
being  tired,  sat  down  to  rest  upon  a  fallen 
trunk.  Suddenly  a  rustling  beside  them  star- 
tled them  ;  and,  looking  round,  they  saw  a  large 
pair  of  bright,  soft  eyes,  gazing  at  them.  A 
pair  of  ears  were  there  also,  a  black  nose  too ; 
in  short,  the  whole  of  some  animal's  pretty 


Blackberrying.  263 

head  ;  and,  before  the  little  girls  had  time  to 
call  out  or  run  away,  a  beautiful  little  fawn 
sprang  out  from  the  bushes  and  ran  to  them 
as  if  he  was  glad  to  see  them.  It  had  a  red 
collar  about  its  neck  with  some  letters  on  it ; 
but  the  children  had  no  need  to  look  at  them : 
they  knew  the  pretty  creature  quite  well.  It 
belonged  to  the  little  cousins  down  at  the 
lomestead,  and  was  a  great  pet,  and  now  it 
came  rubbing  its  head  against  them,  and 
putting  its  hoof  into  their  laps,  as  if  it  were 
very  glad  to  see  some. familiar  faces.  It  must 
have  wandered  from  home,  the  children  knew  ; 
and  so  John  said,  when  he  came  a  moment 
later. 

"  I  shall  have  to  take  the  poor  creature 
back,"  lie  said.  "  It  would  never  do  to  take  it 
up  home,  for  Buffer  would  tear  it  to  pieces ; 
and,  besides,  they'll  be  worrying  about  it  down 
there  ;  so  I'd  better  go  at  once.  You  can  find 
your  way  home  from  here,  Fan  ;  take  that 
right-hand  path,  and  it  will  bring  you  out  just 
below  Owen's  shanty  " 


264        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

The  fawn  seemed  quite  unwilling  to  leave 
the  children  ;  indeed  it  would  not  go  at  all,  till 
John  tied  a  string  to  its  collar,  and  drew  it 
after  him.  As  it  was  found  out  afterwards,  it 
had  been  lost  since  the  day  before ;  and  the 
homestead  children  were  in  great  distress,  and 
had  hunted  for  it  in  vain. 

The  path  pointed  out  by  John  brought  them, 
as  he  said  it  would,  very  near  Owen's  hut,  and, 
looking  towards  it,  they  saw  Mr.  Stanton  and 
his  wife  and  Mrs.  Bradford  standing  in  front 
of  it. 

While  Mr.  Bradford  had  gone  to  the  village 
to  send  the  doctor,  and  try  to  find  a  nurse  for 
Dolly,  the  two  ladies  had  come  with  Mr.  Stan 
ton  to  see  the  sick  child. 

She  was  quieter  than  she  had  been  through 
the  night,  but  was,  if  any  thing,  more  ill.  She 
moaned  incessantly,  and  Lem  said,  was  all  the 
time  begging  for  something,  he  could  not 
make  out  what. 

Mrs.  Stanton  laid  her  soft,  cool  hand  on  the 
girl's  burning  forehead.     Dolly  seemed  to  like 


Blackberry  tng.  265 

the  touch,  and  looking  up  into  the  lady's  face, 
said  something  in  a  beseeching  tone. ' 

"  Do  you  want  any  thing,  Dolly  ? "  asked 
Mrs.  Stanton,  bending  lower. 

"I  want,"  muttered  Dolly  ;  "  I  want  to — to 
be  angel." 

"  Poor  Dolly,"  said  the  lady  in  a  gentle, 
pitying  tone. 

"  What  is  it  she  wants  ?  "  asked  Lem. 

"  She  says  she  wants  to  be  an  angel." 

"  Want  to  be  an  angel,"  moaned  Dolly  again. 
"  Somebody  loves  the  angels  —  up  in  His  place 
—  not  tired  there  —  rest  for  the  weary ;  that's 
tired  folks  —  that's  me.  I'm  so  tired  —  want 
to  be  an  angel." 

"  Dolly,"  said  Mrs.  Stanton,  not  knowing  if 
the  girl  could  understand  her,  yet  hoping  that 
she  might  even  now  speak  a  word  in  season, 
"  Dolly,  you  may  be  an  angel  some  day  if  you 
will  come  to  Jesus.  He  wants  you  to  come 
and  love  Him.  He  wants  you  to  be  a  good 
girl  so  that  He  may  take  you  to  His  heaven, 
where  there  will  be  no  more  pain  or  sorrow, 


266        Bessie  a?jiong  the  Mountains. 

where  you  will  never  be  tired,  where  you  will 
be  an  angel.  Will  you  love  Him,  Dolly  ;  will 
you  be  a  good  girl,  and  try  to  please  Him  ?  " 

"Don't  love  me"  said  Dolly,  who,  with  her 
eyes  fixed  on  the  lady's  face,  had  grown  quiet, 
and  really  seemed  to  understand  what  she  was 
saying ;  "  loves  little  gals,  maybe,  what  sings : 
they  has  nice  frocks,  and  I  aint  fit  for  His 
beautiful  place." 

"  Jesus  will  make  you  clean  and  white,  and 
fit  for  His  heaven,  if  you  ask  Him,  Dolly.  He 
does  love  you.  He  is  waiting  for  you  to  come 
to  Him." 

"  Little  gals  said  He  loved  me ;  but  can't 
ask  Him,  He  don't  come  here." 

"  Yes,  He  does,  Dolly.  He  is  here  now. 
You  cannot  see  Him ;  but  He  sees  you,  and  is 
sorry  for  you.  Shall  we  ask  Him  to  make  you 
fit  for  heaven  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Dolly. 

"  Dear  Jesus,"  said  the  lady,  "  we  ask  Thee 
to  give  this  little  girl  a  new,  clean  heart,  and 
to  make  her  fit  to  live  with  Thee  "  — 


Blackberrying.  267 

"  To  be  an  angel,"  put  in  Dolly,  eagerly. 

"  Make  her  fit  to  be  an  angel,  make  her  love 
to  please  Thee,  and,  when  it  is  time,  take  her 
to  the  home  where  there  shall  be  no  more  pain 
or  trouble.     Amen." 

"No  more  pain — no  more  trouble,"  mur- 
mured Dolly,  her  mind  wandering  again ; 
"  want  to  be  an  angel  —  I'll  give  her  the  cup," 
she  cried  ;  "  they  say  it  kills  folks  to  be  too 
long  in  the  Ice  Glen,  but  I  can't  get  out ; 
they'll  send  Lem  to  jail,  will  they  ?  I'll  fix 
'em  with  their  fine  gardens  —  want  to  —  rest 
for  the  weary." 

Then  her  eyes  closed,  but  presently  opened 
again  ;  and,  looking  from  one  to  another  of  the 
kind  faces  above  her,  she  said, — 

"  I  say,  did  He  see  me  give  up  the  cup  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Stanton.  "  He  sees  all 
we  do." 

"  And  did  He  like  me  a  little  'cause  I  did 
it?" 

"  Jesus  was  glad  when  He  saw  you  give  up 
the  cup,  Dolly,  because  it  was  not  yours,  and 


268        Bessie  among  the  Mountains* 

it  was  right  for  you  to  tell  where  it  was.  He 
is  always  glad  when  we  do  right,  or  when  wo 
are  sorry  for  doing  wrong." 

"  Can  I  speak  to  Him  ?  " 

"  Yes :  He  is  always  ready  and  willing  to 
listen  to  you,  my  poor  child." 

"  Guess  I'll  tell  Him,"  muttered  Dolly ;  and, 
trying  to  put  her  hands  together  as  she  had 
seen  Mrs.  Stanton  do,  she  said,  "  Jesus,  I'm 
true  sorry  I  sp'iled  them  gardens,  and  I  want 
to  be  a  angel,  if  you  could  please  to  let  me." 

It  was  the  first  prayer  that  ever  passed 
Dolly's  lips ;  she  did  not  even  know  it  was  a 
prayer ;  she  only  knew  she  was  speaking  to 
Jesus,  the  great  friend  of  whom  little  Bessie 
and  this  kind  lady  had  told  her. 

Then  the  poor  child  turned  her  face  around 
and  fell  into  one  of  her  short,  troubled  slum- 
bers;  while  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stanton  and  Mrs. 
Bradford  went  outside,  followed  by  Lem. 

The  two  ladies  and  the  gentleman  sat  down 
upon  the  rocks,  while  Lem  took  his  place  in 
front  of  them,  hugging  up  his  knees,  and  star 


Blackberrying.  269 

ing  from  one  to  another  with  half-frightened, 
half-sorrowful,  looks.  They  were  all  silent  for 
a  little  time,  then  Lem  suddenly  said, — 

"  Mister,  when  folks  goes  to  be  angels  they 
mostly  dies,  don't  they  ?  " 

"  Always,  Lem,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  gently. 
"  Angels  are  happy  spirits  whom  God  has 
taken  from  all  the  pain  and  trouble  of  this 
world  to  live  with  Him  in  that  happy  home 
where  sorrow  and  death  never  come." 

"  Is  Doll  going  to  die  ?  "  asked  the  boy. 

"  I  cannot  tell :  that  will  be  as  God  sees  best. 
Dolly  is  very  sick ;  but  we  will  do  for  her  all 
we  can,  and  we  will  ask  Him  to  make  her  His 
own  little  child,  so  that  if  she  dies  she  may  be 
fit  to  live  with  Him,  and  if  she  lives,  she  may 
be  ready  to  serve  Him  and  love  Him  on  earth." 

"  I'll  tell  you,  mister,"  broke  forth  Lem, 
after  another  moment  or  two  of  silence,  "  I  was 
awful  sorry  when  I  heard  what  Doll  did  to 
them  gardens  after  the  little  gals  begged  mo 
out ;  but  you  see  she  didn't  know  it,  and  she 
thought  I  was  took  to  jail.  I  guess  she's  sorry 
too.     Wasn't  vou  awful  mad  about  it?  " 


270        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

"  I  did  feel  pretty  angry,  Lem;  but  we  won't 
talk  any  more  about  that.  I  do  not  think 
either  you  or  Dolly  will  trouble  our  little  girls 
again  ;   will  you  ?  " 

"  I  shan't,"  said  Lem,  and  if  Doll  gets  well 
and  does,  I'll  fix  her :  that's  all." 

Lem  scarcely  spoke  without  using  some  very 
bad  word,  such  as  is  not  best  for  me  to  write 
or  you  to  read  ;  and  Mr.  Stanton  was  waiting 
his  time  to  speak  to  him  about  this.  It  came 
now. 

"  But  maybe  she'll  die,"  continued  Lem. 
"  Anyhow,  you  and  your  folks  has  been  real 
good  to  me  and  Doll :  what  for  I  don't  know, 
for  we  did  plague  you  awful.  I  don't  s'pose 
I'll  ever  get  the  chance  to  do  you  a  good  turn ; 
but,  if  I  do,  you  see  if  I  don't." 

"  Lem,"  said  Mr.  Stanton,  "  you  might  do 
me  a  good  turn  now  if  you  choose." 

"  Can  I,  though  ?  "  said  Lem  ;  "  well,  I  will 
fast  enough ;  for  you're  a  fustrate  fellow,  and 
you  tell  fustrate  tiger  and  bear  stories.  S'pose 
you  don't  know  another,  do  you  ?  " 


Blackb  errying.  271 

"  Plenty  more,"  said  Mr.  Stanton  ;  "  what  I 
want  you  to  do  for  me,  is  not  to  use  bad  words." 

"Never  had  no  schoolin',"  said  Lem,  a  little 
sulkily. 

"  Schooling  will  not  help  you  in  the  way  I 
mean,"  said  Mr.  Stanton;  and  then  he  ex- 
plained to  Lem  what  kind  of  words  he  did 
mean,  telling  him  how  wicked  and  useless  they 
were,  and  how  it  distressed  those  who  loved 
God  to  hear  His  holy  name  taken  in  vain 
Lem  said  he  would  do  so  no  more ;  but  the 
habit  was  so  strong  upon  him,  that,  even  as  he 
promised,  he  used  more  than  one  profane  word 
to  make  the  promise  strong. 

But  now  a  cry  from  Dolly  told  that  she  was 
awake  and  suffering,  and  the  two  ladies  went 
in,  and  found  her  quite  wild  again. 

"  I  want  to  be  a  angel,"  she  said ;  "  there's 
no  pain,  no  tired,  there  —  where's  the  singin' 
—  I  like  it,"  and  so  she  wandered  on,  calling 
upon  the  little  girls  and  begging  them  to  sing. 
In  vain  did  Mrs.  Bradford  and  Mrs.  Stanton 
sing  for  her  the  two  hymns  which  had  taken 


272        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

her  fancy,  she  only  looked  about  more  wildly 
for  Maggie  and  Bessie,  crying  that  she  wanted 
"  little  one  and  t'other  one,"  to  sing  for  her. 
She  grew  worse  and  worse,  till  at  last  even  the 
presence  of  the  two  ladies  seemed  to  make  her 
more  wild ;  and  they  went  out,  leaving  Lem  to 
do  the  best  he  could  with  her.  Mrs.  Bradford 
was  just  saying  she  did  not  know  what  to  do, 
since  the  children  were  from  home,  when  the 
blackberry  party  appeared  at  the  turn  in  the 
wood-path. 

"Here  are  the  children,  heaven-sent,  I  be- 
lieve," said  their  mother,  and  she  beckoned  to 
her  little  girls. 

They  came  running  towards  her,  eager  to 
show  their  berries,  and  to  ask  for  news  of  Dolly. 
Mamma  told  them  how  ill  she  was,  calling  for 
them  ;  and  asked  if  they  would  go  and  sing  for 
her. 

Bessie  said  yes,  at  once ;  but  timid  Maggie 
looked  half  doubtfully  at  the  dark,  ugly,  little 
Louse,  and  had  a  short  struggle  with  herself 
before  she  could  make  up  her  mind  to  venture 


Blackberry  ing.  273 

in.  And  after  they  were  inside,  she  held  Bes- 
sie tightly  by  the  hand,  and  for  a  moment  or 
two  could  scarcely  find  voice  to  sing. 

Dolly's  wild  eyes  turned  towards  them,  and 
softened  a  little  with  pleasure  at  the  sight ;  and 
her  loud,  hoarse  cries  ceased.  It  was  evident 
she  knew  them. 

"  Sing,  '  I  want  to  be  an  angel/  my  dar- 
lings," said  mamma. 

It  was  strange  to  see  how  the  sweet  sounds 
now  soothed  the  sick  child,  though  they  had 
failed  when  tried  by  Mrs.  Bradford  and  Mrs. 
Stanton.  A  love  for  music  was,  beside  her 
affection  for  Lem,  the  one  soft  spot  in  poor 
Dolly's  sinful,  hardened  heart ;  but  the  prac- 
tised voices  of  the  two  ladies  had  not  half  the 
charm  for  her  of  the  simple,  childish  tones 
which  had  first  sung  to  her  the  hymn  which 
had  taken  such  hold  upon  her  fancy,  or  rather 
on  her  heart.  They  sang  it  again  and  again, 
varying  from  that  only  to  "  Rest  for  the  weary," 
for  no  other  hymns  seemed  to  satisfy  the  sick 
girl.     She  grew  calm  and  quiet,  and  at   last 

18 


274        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

even  appeared  to  forget  her  pain  as  she  lay 
listening. 

Once,  when  they  paused,  she  beckoned  to 
Bessie,  and  said,  "  Do  you  sometimes  speak  to 
Him  ?  " 

"  To  whom  ?  "  asked  Bessie. 

"  To  Him  what  has  the  angels,  and  is  glad  if 
we're  good,  —  Jesus." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  said  Bessie  ;  "  we  speak  to  Him 
very  often :  when  we  say  our  prayers,  that  is 
speaking  to  Jesus;  and  He  always  listens 
too." 

"  Then  you  speak  to  Him  for  me,  will  you  V 
You  knows  Him  better  than  I  do  :  I  don't  know 
Him  much,  only  what  you  and  the  lady  telled 
me,  and  what  the  song  says." 

"  What  shall  we  tell  Him  ?  "  asked  Bessie. 

"  Tell  Him  I'm  so  tired  this  long  while,  and 
the  pain  aches  so,  and  if  He  could  just  let  me 
be  a  angel,  I'd  never  do  so  no  more ;  and  I'm 
sorry  I  plagued  you,  and  I'll  do  just  what  He 
bids  me.  I'm  sorry  I  broke  Miss  Porter's 
plate  too." 


Blackbei'rying.  275 

"  Yes,  we'll  tell  Him,"  said  Bessie  gently ; 
"  but,  Dolly,  Jesus  would  like  you  to  tell  Him 
yourself  too." 

"I  done  it,  and  I'll  do  it  some  more,"  said 
Dolly,  feebly  ;  "  make  some  more  singin'." 

Maggie  and  Bessie  sang  again,  and  before 
long  poor  Dolly's  eyes  closed,  and  she  lay 
quietly  sleeping  ;  while  our  little  girls,  having 
left  some  of  their  berries  for  Lem  to  give  her 
when  she  woke,  went  home  with  their  mother 
and  other  friends. 


u^c*^- 


XV. 


A  FRIEND  IN  NEED. 


kggJj'HREE  weeks  had  passed  away,  and  still 
Dolly  lay  very  ill.  The  terrible  rheu- 
matic pains  were  better,  it  is  true,  and 
she  could  now  be  moved  without  causing  her 
so  much  agony ;  but  she  had  a  racking  cough 
and  much  fever,  and  showed,  in  many  other 
ways,  how  very  sick  she  was.  Lem  said  she 
had  had  a  cough  for  a  good  while  before  that 
night  spent  in  the  Ice  Glen,  and  that  she  had 
always  been  complaining  of  feeling  tired.  The 
doctor  from  the  village  shook  his  head  when 
he  was  questioned  about  her,  and  so  did  Mr. 
Stanton  and  old  Mrs.  Porter.  She  had  not 
wanted  for  such  care  as  could  be  given  her  in 
her  wretched  home.  Mr.  Bradford  had  found  a 
woman  who,  in  consideration  of  being  well  paid, 


A  Friend  in  Need.  27  7 

was  willing  to  come  and  take  care  of  her,  and 
kind  Mrs.  Porter  provided  her  with  such  food 
as  she  could  take.  Maggie  and  Bessie,  and 
some  of  the  ladies  from  the  Lake  House,  came 
up  to  see  her  every  day  when  the  weather  per- 
mitted, and  would  sing  to  her,  and  tell  her  of 
Jesus  and  His  love. 

It  was  strange  to  see  how  readily  she  lis 
tened,  how  eagerly  she  drank  it  all  in,  espe- 
cially when  Bessie  talked  to  her.  Perhaps  the 
simple,  earnest  words  of  this  little  teacher  were 
easier  to  be  understood  by  her  poor,  untaught 
mind,  than  those  of  others  who  were  older  and 
wiser.  Or  it  might  be  that  she  felt  Bessie  had 
been  her  first  friend,  —  the  first  one  to  extend 
to  her  the  hand  of  forgiveness  and  kindness, — 
or  perhaps  it  was  both  of  these  things.  How- 
ever it  was,  she  was  always  glad  to  see  the  lit- 
tle girls  and  have  them  tell  her  of  that  Friend 
above  who  was  so  full  of  pity,  love,  and  forgive- 
ness. 

Dolly  had  heard  of  God  before,  but  not  as  the 
kind,  loving  Father,  —  the  merciful,  gracious 


278        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

Saviour,  —  who  stands  ready  to  receive  all  who 
will  turn  to  Him,  who  comes  after  us  when  wo 
go  from  Him,  and  who  had  now  put  out  nis 
pitying  hand  to  draw  to  Himself  this  poor  little 
stricken  lamb  who  had  wandered  so  far  from 
his  fold.  She  had  heard  His  holy  name  taken 
in  vain  every  day  of  her  miserable  little  life ; 
she  had  never  until  now  heard  it  spoken  in 
love  and  reverence ;  and  the  only  idea  she  had 
had  of  Him,  had  been  as  some  great  but  terri- 
ble being  who  some  day  might  find  her  out, 
and  punish  her  for  the  naughty  things  she  had 
done.  But  the  dread  of  this  uncertain  punish- 
ment had  not  checked  her  in  her  wicked  ways ; 
and  so  she  had  gone  on,  till  the  God  she  did 
not  love  and  scarcely  feared,  had  laid  his  hand 
upon  her,  and  then  sent  these  little  messengers 
to  bring  to  her  the  glad  tidings  of  peace  and 
pardon. 

Day  by  day  she  grew  more  gentle,  more 
humble,  more  quiet,  more  unlike  the  Dolly  of 
old,  on  whom  kindness  and  harshness  had  both 
been  thrown  away.    Poor  child,  perhaps  it  was 


A  Friend  in  JVeed.  279 

that  she  had  had  so  much  of  the  latter,  that 
she  had  not  known  how  to  believe  in  the  former 
when  it  came  to  her.  It  was  touching  to  see 
her  penitence  for  past  offences,  and  how  anxious 
she  now  became  to  be  forgiven  by  those  whom 
she  had  wronged.  But  her  ideas  of  right  and 
wrong  were  still  very  strange,  and  rather  diffi- 
cult to  deal  with. 

One  day  Mrs.  Porter  came  to  see  her  and 
brought  some  nice  broth,  with  which  she  fed 
her.  As  she  was  leaving,  Dolly  called  her 
back,  and  told  her  to  look  in  the  corner  beneath 
a  heap  of  dried  sticks  and  see  what  she  would 
find.  Willing  to  please  the  child,  Mrs.  Porter 
did  so,  and  drew  out  a  soiled  but  fine  pocket- 
handkerchief. 

"  There,"  said  Dolly,  "  I'm  going  to  give  you 
that  for  your  plate  that  I  broke.  I'm  right 
sorry  I  broke  it.  Jesus  didn't  like  me  much 
then,  I  guess." 

Mrs.  Porter  was  quite  sure  that  Dolly  had 
not  come  honestly  by  the  handkerchief,  and 
would  not  take  it,  which  greatly  distressed  the 


280        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

child.  Just  at  that  moment,  Mrs.  Bradford 
came  in,  and  Mrs.  Porter  told  her  the  trouble. 

"  Dolly,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford,  gently,  "  where 
did  you  get  this  handkerchief?  " 

"  Off  old  Miss  Mapes'  currant-bush,"  said 
Dolly,  promptly  ;  adding,  in  an  aggrieved  tone, 
"  I  want  her  to  have  it  'stead  of  her  plate,  and 
she  won't." 

"  Because  it  is  not  yours  to  give  away." 

"  Then  'taint  mine  to  keep,"  said  Dolly ; 
"  and  I  guess  Jesus  don't  want  me  to  have  it." 

"'He  wants  you  to  give  it  back  to  Mrs.  Mapes, 
because  that  is  the  only  right  thing  to  do, 
Dolly." 

"Old  Miss  Mapes  is  hateful,"  answered 
Dolly.  "  She  chased  me  off  the  road  when  I 
didn't  do  nothin',  and  threw  a  hoe  at  me  and 
cut  my  foot,  and  that's  why  I  took  it;  I'd 
liever  Miss  Porter  would  have  it.    She's  good." 

"  But  if  you  want  to  be  a  good  girl,  and 
please  Jesus,  you  must  do  what  He  wants  you 
to,  not  what  you  had  rather  do  yourself." 

"  Would  He  rather  I'd  give  the  handkerche? 
back  to  Miss  Mapes  ?  " 


A  Friend  in  Need.  281 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford.  "He  was 
grieved  when  He  saw  you  take  it ;  and  He  will 
know  you  are  truly  sorry  if  you  send  it  back 
to  her." 

"  I'll  do  it,  then,"  said  Dolly ;  "  you  can 
take  it  to  her:  but  don't  you  tell  her  I  did 
it  for  her,  'cause  I  don't,  —  it's  only  for 
Him." 

Poor  child !  it  was  perhaps  as  much  as 
was  to  be  expected  from  one  so  ignorant ;  and 
Mrs.  Bradford,  fearing  to  do  her  harm,  said 
no  more,  trusting  that  even  this  blind  striving 
after  right  was  pleasing  in  the  eyes  of  Him 
who  has  said,  that  little  should  be  required  of 
him  to  whom  little  has  been  given. 

"  Say  <  Gentle  Jesus,'  "  said  Dolly,  turning 
to  Bessie,  who  had  stood  by  while  her  mother 
was  talking. 

Next  to  the  two  hymns  which  had  first 
taken  her  fancy,  this  seemed  to  be  the  one 
Dolly  liked  best ;  and  now  she  often  asked  for 
it.  Bessie  repeated  it.  When  she  came  to 
the  two  last  lines  of  the  second  verse, — 


282        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

"  In  the  kingdom  of  thy  grace, 
Give  a  little  child  a  place," 

Dolly  said,  "  I'm  going  to  say,  '  Give  a  better 
child  a  place,'  'cause  I'll  be  a  better  child 
now :  true  I  will." 

"With  Jesus'  help,  Dolly,"  said  Mrs. 
Bradford. 

"He  did  help  me,"  said  Dolly.  "He  let 
her  "  —  motioning  towards  Bessie  —  "  come 
and  tell  me  about  Him." 

The  small,  dirty  hut,  with  the  hard  ground 
for  its  floor,  its  miserable  roof,  and  chinks 
and  crannies  which  let  in  the  wind  and  damp, 
was  no  place  for  a  sick  child  on  these  cool 
August  nights ;  and  now  that  Dolly  could  be 
moved  without  putting  her  to  so  much  pain, 
it  was  thought  best  it  should  be  done.  The 
poor-house  was  many  miles  away,  and  now 
that  Maggie  and  Bessie  had  come  to  take  such 
an  interest  in  her,  and  she  in  them,  Mr.  Porter 
said  it  would  be  cruel  to  send  her  so  far,  and 
offered  to  have  her  put  in  the  old  tool-house. 
So,  for  two  or  three  days,  the  four  boys  and 


A  Friend  in  Need.  283 

fekrr  busied  themselves  in  repairing  it  for  her, 
papa  and  Uncle  Ruthven  furnishing  what  they 
needed  to  make  it  comfortable.  A  few  planks 
and  nails,  a  little  whitewash  and  paint,  a  sash- 
window,  and  some  willing  hands,  soon  made  it 
secure  against  wind  and  rain.  Then  Mrs. 
Porter  had  it  cleaned,  and  a  cot-bed,  a  pine- 
table,  and  two  chairs  were  put  in  it.  Plain 
and  bare  enough  it  was,  to  be  sure,  but  a  won- 
derful contrast  to  Dolly's  former  home  ;  and 
the  children  thought  with  great  pleasure  of 
seeing  her  brought  there.  This  was  to  be 
done  in  a  few  days,  but  Dolly  was  not  to  be 
told  of  it  until  the  time  came. 

As  Maggie  and  Bessie  were  on  their  way 
home  with  their  mother,  they  met  Uncle  Ruth- 
ven and  Aunt  Bessie,  the  Colonel  and  Mrs. 
Rush,  all  going  for  a  walk,  and  were  invited  to 
join  them.  Mamma  agreed,  if  Bessie  were  not 
too  tired,  but  the  little  girl  declared  she  was 
not ;  and  Uncle  Ruthven  promised  to  take  her 
on  his  shoulder  if  she  gave  out  before  they 
reached   home.     Many  a  ride  had  the   little 


284        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

"  princess  "  taken  on  this  kind,  strong  shoul- 
der during  their  mountain  rambles,  and  she 
now  often  wondered  that  she  could  ever  have 
had  "  objections "  to  this  dear,  loving  uncle 
who  was  always  so  ready  to  help  and  please 
her.  So  they  all  turned  back  together,  and, 
passing  by  the  end  of  the  lake,  struck  into  the 
road  which  led  down  the  mountain.  They 
strolled  slowly  down  this  for  some  little  dis- 
tance, and  then  Mrs.  Bradford,  and  Colonel 
and  Mrs.  Rush,  sat  down  to*  rest  before  they 
began  their  homeward  walk  ;  while  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Stanton  and  the  two  little  girls  wandered 
about,  gathering  wild  flowers  and  mosses. 
Blue  gentians,  golden-rod,  Michaelmas  daisies, 
and  the  pretty,  red  partridge-berry  grew  all 
about,  and  the  children  soon  had  their  hands 
full. 

Suddenly,  Maggie  spied  a  cluster  of  bright- 
scarlet  maple  leaves,  the  first  of  the  season. 
The  gravelly  side  of  the  mountain  sloped 
away  here  for  a  few  feet,  then  fell  sheer  down 
in  a  tremendous  precipice  to  the  valley  be- 


A  Friend  i?i  Need,  285 

neath ;  and  a  foot  or  so  below  the  edge  grew 
this  beautiful,  tantalizing  bunch  of  leaves.  It 
was  quite  beyond  Maggie's  reach,  for  she  had 
been  forbidden  to  go  near  that  side  of  the 
road,  where  a  slip,  or  false  step,  might  have 
sent  her  down,  down  a  thousand  feet. 

"  0  Aunt  Bessie  !  "  she  cried,  "  look  what  a 
lovely  bunch  of  red  leaves.  It  is  just  what 
you  said  you  wanted  for  that  c'llection  you 
are  making.  I  wonder  if  Uncle  Ruthven  could 
not  reach  it  for  you." 

Aunt  Bessie  turned  and  looked. 

"  I  can  reach  it  for  myself,"  she  said. 
"  Uncle  Ruthven  is  upon  the  rocks,  after  those 
climbing-ferns.  I  will  stand  here  and  hook  it 
up  with  this  crooked  stick." 

"  Take  care,  Bessie,  take  care  !  "  called  her 
or  other,  the  Colonel ;  "  that  is  loose  gravel 
there  ;  if  it  slips  with  you,  you  are  lost ;  "  and, 
1  Come  back,  Bessie,  come  back  ! "  called  her 
Husband  from  above,  seeing  the  danger  more 
plainly  than  any  of  the  others. 

It  was  too  late.     She  looked  up,  kissed  her 


286        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

hand  gayly  to  her  husband,  and  turr>a&  to 
obey.  But  her  foot  was  already  upon  the 
treacherous  gravel,  and  she  slipped  a  little, 
recovered  herself;  then,  startled,  tried  too 
suddenly  to  spring  upon  firmer  ground,  and 
slipped  again.  The  gravel  gave  way  more 
and  more  beneath  her  weight.  She  went 
sliding,  sliding  down,  and,  in  an  instant,  had 
disappeared  from  the  sight  of  the  terrified 
group  above. 

"  Ruth ven  !  0  Ruth ven  !  "  was  the  wild 
cry  that  rang  out  on  the  still  summer  air,  fol- 
lowed by  a  shriek  of  terror  from  the  two  little 
girls,  and  a  groan  from  the  Colonel's  lips. 
Then  a  stillness  like  death  itself,  and  the  next 
moment  Uncle  Ruthven  stood  among  them. 

But  —  how  very  strange  Maggie  and  Bessie 
thought  it  —  he  did  not  seem  frightened  at 
all.  His  face  was  very  white,  to  be  sure  ;  but 
his  voice  was  steady  and  quiet,  only  it  did  not 
sound  like  Uncle  Ruthven's  voice,  but  like 
that  of  some  stranger,  and  as  if  it  came  from 
far,  far  away. 


A  Friend  in  Need,  287 

"  She  is  holding  by  the  bushes  below,"  he 
said  ;  and,  as  he  spoke,  he  threw  himself  flat 
upon  the  ground,  half  on,  half  over,  the  edge 
of  the  precipice,  and,  reaching  one  arm,  he 
succeeded  in  grasping,  and  but  just  grasping, 
the  wrist  of  his  wife. 

For  it  was  as  he  had  said.  As  she  slrd  down- 
wards, Mrs.  Stanton  had  clutched  wildly  at 
the  bushes  growing  below,  and  had  succeeded 
in  laying  hold  of  them.  But  the  bushes  were 
slender,  and  not  deeply  rooted  in  the  loose 
gravelly  soil,  and  though  Mrs.  Stanton  was  a 
small,  slight  woman,  even  her  light  weight  was 
too  much  for  them,  and  they  were  just  giving 
way,  when  her  husband's  strong,  firm  grasp 
was  upon  her  wrist.  Yes,  he  had  her  fast, 
holding  back  the  precious  life  ;  but  for  how 
long  ?  and  what  was  to  be  done  next  ? 

Mr.  Stanton  dared  not  rise  upon  his  feet  or 
even  upon  his  knees,  and  so  try  to  draw  her 
up  ;  he  was  a  large,  heavy  man  ;  the  treacher- 
ous edge,  which  would  not  bear  his  wife's  far 
lighter   weight,   would  give   way  beneath  his, 


288        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

and  send  them  both  to  a  fearful  death  below 
Even  now  loose  pebbles  and  gravel  were  falling 
down,  and  striking  upon  the  sweet,  upturned 
face  which  looked  to  him  for  help.  Had  her 
feet  even  been  upon  the  slope,  or  the  ledge 
beneath  it,  he  might  have  drawn  her  up ;  but 
they  were  below  it,  hanging  over  that  terrible 
precipice. 

In  vain  did  the  Colonel,  kneeling  beside  his 
brother-in-law,  clasp  his  arms  about  his  waist, 
and  so  try  to  draw  both  him  and  his  sister  to 
a  place  of  safety  ;  the  ground  only  broke  away 
more  as  the  added  strain  came  upon  Mr.  Stan- 
ton's arm,  and  a  fresh  shower  of  gravel  and 
stone  went  rolling  down  upon  the  poor  sufferer 
below. 

Then  came  her  voice  in  feeble  tones.  "  Ruth- 
ven,  it  is  of  no  use,  love  ;  my  clothes  are  caught 
and  I  cannot  free  them.  Let  me  go,  my  hus- 
band :  it  is  only  throwing  away  your  life." 

"  Not  while  God  gives  life  and  power  to  this 
hand.  Courage,  my  darling,  courage.  Go, 
some  of  you,  for  help,  ropes  and  men,"  he  said, 


A  Friend  in  Need.  289 

turning  his  haggard  face  t  *wards  the  others, 
and  still  speaking  in  that  strange  tone,  so  un- 
like his  own. 

In  an  instant,  Mrs.  Bradford  was  far  up  the 
road  on  her  way  to  the  house.  To  her  little 
girls  she  seemed  scarcely  to  touch  the  ground ; 
to  herself,  it  seemed  as  though  leaden  weights 
were  upon  her  feet,  and  that  she  made  no  way 
at  all.  Just  as  she  reached  the  lower  end  of 
the  lake,  she  met  her  husband  coming  down 
to  join  them.  Scarcely  pausing,  she  spoke 
half  a  dozen  words  which  sent  him  in  haste 
on  his  way ;  then  herself  sped  on  towards  the 
house. 

Meanwhile,  how  long  the  moments  seemed 
to  the  agonized  group  below.  There  was  noth- 
ing more  to  be  done  till  help  came.  Could 
Mr.  Stanton  hold  on,  could  that  cruel  gravel 
bear  them  both,  till  that  should  be  ?  God,  in 
whom  alone  they  trusted,  only  knew. 

Mrs.  Rush  sat  white  and  sick  upon  the  bank, 
the  little  girls  clinging  to  her  and  crying  bit- 
terly, but  quietly.     No  sound  broke  that  terri- 

19 


290        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

ble  stillness,  except  Uncle  Ruthven's  voice  as 
he  now  and  then  spoke  a  few  words  of  hope 
and  encouragement  to  his  wife,  till  a  bird 
lighted  a  little  way  off,  and  broke  into  a  joyous 
song.  Maggie  could  not  bear  it:  it  seemed 
a  mockery  of  their  grief  and  agony ;  and,  al- 
though at  another  time  she  would  have  been 
shocked  at  herself  for  doing  such  a  thing,  she 
now  chased  it  away. 

"  Oh !  why  don't  help  come  to  us  ?  "  she 
sobbed  out.    "  Why  don't  God  send  us  help  ?  " 

Bessie  raised  her  head  from  Mrs.  Rush's  lap, 
where  she  had  hidden  her  face. 

"  Maybe  we  did  not  ask  Him  quite  right," 
she  said.  "  Aunt  May,  say  a  prayer  for  Aunt 
Bessie  and  for  us  all." 

Mrs.  Rush  tried  to  speak,  but  could  not. 
One  ceaseless,  agonized  prayer  had  been  going 
up  from  her.  heart ;  but  she  could  not  put  it  into 
words,  and  only  shook  her  head.  Bessie  looked 
at  her  for  a  moment,  and  then,  as  if  she  undcj 
stood,  said, — 

"  Shall  I  say  it,  Aunt  May  ?  " 


A  Friend  in  Need.  291 

Mrs.  Rush  nodded  assent ;  and,  kneeling  at 
her  side,  Bessie  clasped  her  little  hands,  and 
looking  up  to  heaven,  said, — 

"  Dear  Father  in  heaven,  we  are  so  very 
troubled,  we  don't  any  of  us  know  quite  what 
to  say ;  but  you  know  what  we  want,  even  if 
we  can't  find  the  words,  and  our  heart-prayers 
do  just  as  well  for  you.  Please  send  dear 
Aunt  Bessie  some  help  very  quick.  Have  pity 
on  her,  and  make  her  know  our  Father  don't 
forget  her.     Amen." 

It  was  said  with  many  a  gasp  and  sob  oi 
terror  and  distress ;  and,  when  it  was  finished, 
the  little  one  hid  her  face  in  Mrs.  Rush's  lap 
again. 

But  she  was  right.  The  all-merciful  Father 
had  heard  their  earnest  "  heart-prayers,"  which 
could  not  be  put  into  words  ;  and  help,  such  as 
they  did  not  look  for,  was  at  hand. 

None  saw  the  figure  bounding  down  the  moun- 
tain side  with  such  headlong  speed  —  now 
swinging  itself  down  some  steep  ascent  by  the 
branches  of  a  tree,  now  springing  from  rock 


292        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

to  rock  like  a  wild  goat  —  till  it  stood  among 
them,  breathless  and  eager. 

The  Colonel  had  risen  to  his  feet,  and,  go- 
ing a  few  steps  up  the  bank  where  the  ground 
was  firmer,  grasped  the  trunk  of  a  tree  for 
support,  and  looked  over  the  edge  at  his  poor 
sister.  God  had  been  merciful  to  her,  and 
now  sense  and  feeling  had  left  her,  and  she 
hung  unconscious  in  her  husband's  hand. 
Colonel  Rush  saw  now  what  he  had  not  known 
before,  —  a  narrow  ledge  of  rock,  scarce  six 
inches  wide,  jutted  beyond  the  slope  of  gravel, 
and,  on  this,  his  sister's  form  partly  rested. 
Well  that  it  was  so,  or  not  even  her  husband's 
tremendous  strength  could  have  supported  the 
strain  so  long.  The  Colonel  eyed  this  ledge 
eagerly.  It  must  have  been  on  this  that  his 
brother-in-law  relied,  when  he  called  for  men 
and  ropes.  Could  some  one  but  reach  it,  and 
be  held  from  above,  they  might  fasten  a  rope 
about  his  sister's  waist,  and  so  she  be  drawn 
safely  up.  Could  Ruthven  hold  on  till 
then  ? 


A  Friend  in  Need.  293 

The  Colonel  looked  around  him,  for  a  mo- 
ment, with  a  wild  thought  of  trying  to  reach 
it  himself ;  the  next  he  put  it  away  as  worse 
than  folly.  There  was  no  rope,  nothing  to 
hold  him  or  his  sister ;  and  if  there  had  been, 
who  was  there  to  support  and  guide  it  ?  No 
one  but  a  weak  woman  and  two  little  children. 
He  himself  was  a  tall  man,  of  no  light  weight, 
and  with  a  lame  foot :  the  attempt  was  sure  to 
bring  destruction  upon  himself,  his  sister,  and 
her  husband. 

As  he  turned  away,  with  another  silent  ap- 
peal for  help,  Lem  stood  before  him. 

"  I  seen  it  up  there,"  he  said,  hurriedly, 
"  and  thought  I'd  never  git  here.  I  say,  mis- 
ter,"—  to  Mr.  Stanton,  —  "if  I  only  had  a 
rope,  or  a  bit  of  something  to  fasten  about  me, 
I  know  I  could  get  down  there,  and  put  It 
about  her,  so  you  could  histc  her  up." 

The  quick  eye  of  the  boy,  used  to  all  man- 
ner of  make-shifts  and  hair-breadth  escapes, 
had  taken  it  all  in,  and  saw  a  way  of  safety, 
if  the  means  were  but  at  hand.     He  looked 


294        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

around,  and  spied  a  light  shawl  lying  un 
heeded  upon  the  ground.  He  snatched  it  up, 
tried  its  strength,  and  shook  his  head. 

"  'Twon't  do,"  he  said,  "  'taint  long  enough 
so ;  and,  if  we  split  it,  'twon't  be  strong 
enough." 

The  children  and  Mrs.  Rush  had  risen,  and 
were  listening;  and  now  a  quick  thought 
darted  into  Maggie's  mind. 

"  Uncle  Horace,"  she  said,  springing  eagerl) 
forward,  and  pointing  to  the  broad  plaid  rib- 
bon about  her  sister's  waist,  "  there's  my 
sash  and  Bessie's.  Wouldn't  they  be  of  any 
use?" 

"  Thank  God  !  the  very  thing  !  "  exclaimed 
the  Colonel ;  and,  in  an  instant,  the  broad,  stout 
ribbons  were  untied  from  the  children's  waists, 
and  strongly  knotted  together. 

"  Can  you  hold  the  boy,  Horace  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Rush. 

"  With  God's  help,  and  what  you  can  give 
me,  I  trust  so,"  he  answered. 

"  You  must  keep  far  enough  from  the  edge 


A  Friend  in  jVccd.  295 

not  to  slide  over  yourselves,  you  see,"  said 
Lem,  coolly,  as  he  and  the  Colonel  drew 
strongly  upon  the  knot. 

The  Colonel  measured  the  ribbon  with  his 
eye.  Tied  around  Lem's  waist,  it  would 
scarcely  give  the  length  they  needed,  and  it 
was  not  safe  to  fasten  it  to  any  of  the  boy's 
ragged,  worn-out  clothes.  He  snatched  up 
the  shawl,  twisted  and  wound  it  about  Lem's 
waist,  fastening  it  securely,  then  drew  the  rib 
bon  through  it.  As  he  did  so,  Bessie  cried 
out,  — 

"  Papa  !  here's  dear  papa !     That  is  help." 

No  one  could  bring  such  help  as  papa,  Bes« 
6ie  thought;  and  there  he  came,  running  down 
the  hill,  and  stood  among  them.  A  few  words 
made  him  understand  what  they  were  about ; 
and,  as  Lcm  was  now  ready,  he,  with  tho 
Colonel,  took  fast  hold  of  the  long  ribbon. 

Slowly  and  carefully,  with  the  Colonel's  cane 
in  his  hand,  tho  boy  stepped  over  the  edge, — 
not  just  above  Mrs.  Stanton,  but  at  the  spot 
where  the  Colonel  had  looked  over  at  her, — 


296       Bessie  among  the  Mountains 

down,  step  by  step,  till  he  had  disappeared 
from  the  sight  of  all  but  Mr.  Stanton,  who, 
lying  over  the  edge,  watched  him,  God  only 
knows,  with  what  sickening  hope ;  the  loose 
soil  crumbled  and  slid  beneath  him ;  but, 
light  and  sinewy  as  he  was,  his  bare  feet, 
trained  to  all  kinds  of  mountain  climbing, 
took  hold  where  those  of  a  heavier  person, 
with  shoes  upon  them,  must  have  faltered  and 
slipped  past  all  recovery.  He  had  reached 
the  ledge,  and  now,  step  by  step,  slowly  neared 
the  lady.  Sure-footed  as  a  goat,  steady  of 
head  and  nerve,  reckless  of  danger,  yet  with 
sense  enough  to  remember  the  Colonel's 
charge  not  to  look  below  him,  he  reached  her 
side,  freed  her  clothes  from  the  clinging 
bushes  ;  then,  with  a  care  and  steadiness  which 
Mr.  Stanton,  spite  of  his  agonizing  anxiety, 
wondered  to  see,  unrolled  the  shawl  from  his 
own  body,  and  fastened  it  about  that  of  the 
senseless  figure  beside  him ;  then  gave  the  word 
to  raise  her. 

Up,  up,  steadily,  inch  by  inch,  was  the  pre* 


A  Friend  in  Need,    '  297 

cious  form  drawn,  till  her  husband's  arm 
could  grasp  her  waist,  and  she  was  lifted 
safe,  —  but  oh  !  so  white  and  still,  —  and  laid 
upon  the  grassy  bank  ;  while  Uncle  Ruthven, 
almost  as  white,  fell  exhausted  beside  her. 
But  he  was  on  his  knees  and  bending  over 
her,  by  the  time  that  Mr.  Bradford  and  Colo- 
nel Rush  had  lowered  the  ribbon  again ;  and 
Lem,  flushed  and  triumphant,  was  drawn  up 
unhurt.  The  boy  was  very  proud,  and  per- 
haps justly  so,  of  the  feat  he  had  performed, 
and  would  have  broken  out  into  some  loud, 
exultant  expressions,  if  Mr.  Bradford  had  not 
checked  him;  and  then,  before  a  word  was 
spoken,  the  gentlemen  uncovered  their  heads, 
and  Mr.  Bradford  spoke  a  few  words  of  ear- 
nest, solemn  thanksgiving  for  the  wonderful 
mercy  just  shown  them.  Lem  stared,  open- 
mouthed  ;  and  the  instant  he  was  allowed  10 
speak,  sprang  forward  to  Mr.  Stanton, — 

"  I  told  you  I'd  do  you  a  good  turn,  if  I  got 
the  way,  mister  ;  and  I  did,  didn't  I  ?  " 

"  By  God's  mercy,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Stanton. 


298        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

"  May  lie  bless  you  for  this,  my  brave  boy.  I 
will  be  a  friend  to  you  as  long  as  I  live." 

Lem  immediately  turned  half  a  dozen  som- 
ersets, which,  in  spite  of  their  admiration 
and  gratitude,  greatly  disgusted  Maggie  and 
Bessie  ;  for  they  did  not  sec  how  he  could  have 
the  heart  to  do  such  a  thing  while  dear  Aunt 
Bessie  lay  there,  so  white  and  still.  They 
could  scarcely  believe  Aunt  May's  assurance 
that  she  was  not  dead,  but  had  only  fainted, 
and  were  still  filled  with  terror  and  distress. 

And  now,  Uncle  Ruthven  lifted  her  in  his 
arms,  and  they  all  set  out  on  the  way  home ; 
Lem  keeping  close  to  Mr.  Stanton  with  his 
precious  burden,  as  if  he  felt  that  he  had  some 
sort  of  a  claim  on  her.  But  when  they  were 
about  half  way  home,  they  met  all  the  men 
and  boys  from  the  Lake  House  coming  down 
the  road  with  ropes,  and  Lem  was  taken  with 
a  sudden  fit  of  shyness,  and,  turning  about, 
rushed  away  without  a  word. 


XVI. 


LEM'S    SORROW. 


T  would  be  impossible  to  tell  what 
joy  and  gratitude  filled  the  hearts  of 
all  at  the  Lake  House  that  night. 
It  was  true,  indeed,  that  the  dear  one  who  had 
been  snatched  from  such  a  fearful  death  was 
very  ill  from  the  fright  and  shock,  weak  and 
exhausted,  and  dreadfully  nervous.  Her  arm, 
too,  was  badly  hurt  with  the  long-continued 
strain  upon  it,  and  her  sweet  face  scratched 
and  bruised  with  the  falling  stones  and  gravel ; 
but  the  precious  life  had  been  spared,  by  God's 
great  mercy,  and  they  might  hope,  that,  in  a 
few  days,  she  would  be  herself  again. 

The  whole  family  had  been  sadly  shaken  by 
the  terrible  accident.  Not  only  on  that  night, 
hut  for  several  succeeding  ones,  Maggie   and 


300       Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

Bessie  were  constantly  starting  awake  with 
cries  of  fear,  and  then  they  would  sob  and 
tremble  so,  that  it  was  difficult  to  quiet  them. 
Maggie  would  burst  into  tears  for  the  merest 
trifle,  —  sometimes,  even  if  she  were  spoken 
to  suddenly,  and  then  would  cry  and  laugh  by 
turns ;  and  Bessie  was  often  found  in  some 
corner,  with  her  face  hidden,  sobbing  as  if 
her  heart  would  break.  "  Just  because  I 
could  not  help  it,  mamma,"  she  would  say, 
when  asked  the  reason ;  and  she  would  shud- 
der and  quiver  all  over,  at  the  least  mention 
of  that  dreadful  day.  The  shock  had  been 
too  much  for  the  tender  young  hearts,  and  it 
took  them  some  time  to  recover  from  it. 

It  was  necessary  to  keep  the  house  very 
still,  on  account  of  Aunt  Bessie,  who  was  so 
very  nervous  that  the  least  sound  disturbed 
her;  and  roguish,  noisy  Frankie  was,  by  Aunt 
Patty's  earnest  request,  allowed  to  go  to  her 
house,  where,  for  a  few  days,  he  lorded  it  over 
that  humble  servant  of  his  to  his  heart's  con- 
tent.    But  there  was  no  need  to  send  the  little 


Lem's  Sorrow,  301 

girls  away ;  they  were  only  too  quiet,  and 
moped  about  the  house  in  a  way  that  was  quite 
melancholy  to  sec.  The  weather  was  damp 
and  rainy,  so  they  could  not  be  much  out  of 
doors ;  and,  although  their  friends  did  all  they 
could  to  divert  them  with  stories,  reading 
aloud,  and  games,  they  did  not  seem  able  to 
shake  off  their  sadness.  The  truth  was,  they 
could  not  forget  Aunt  Bessie's  face,  as  they 
had  seen  it  lying  on  Uncle  Ruthven's  shoulder, 
white  and  still ;  and  it  scarcely  seemed  possi 
ble  to  them  that  she  could  ever  be  well  again. 
But  one  day,  grandmamma,  coining  out  of 
Aunt  Bessie's  room,  found  the  two  little  maid- 
ens sitting  disconsolately  on  the  stairs,  looking 
wistfully  at  the  door  of  the  sick-room.  She 
stepped  back,  spoke  a  few  words  to  those 
within,  and  then,  coming  to  the  children,  asked 
them  if  they  would  like  to  go  and  sec  the  dear 
invalid.  Bessie  sprang  eagerly  forward,  but 
Maggie,  with  the  fear  of  seeing  Aunt  Bessie 
look  as  she  had  done  on  that  dreadful  day, 
hung  back  a  little,  till  Bessie  urged  her  forward. 


302        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

They  went  in  with  hushed  steps,  for  grand- 
mamma said  they  must  be  very  quiet,  stay  but 
a  moment,  and  on  no  account  must  they  speak 
of  the  accident.  There  lay  Aunt  Bessie  on 
the  pillows.  Very  white  still  was  her  face ; 
but  life  and  love  looked  out  at  them  from  the 
dear  eyes  :  it  was  Aunt  Bessie's  own  sweet 
smile  which  welcomed  them,  her  own  gentle 
voice  which  told  them  how  glad  she  was  to 
see  them,  her  own  warm  kiss  which  met 
theirs. 

"  Aunt  Bessie  ! "  said  her  little  namesake, 
and  then  she  nestled  her  face  on  the  pillows 
beside  her,  and  said  no  more.  But  there  was 
no  need :  there  was  a  whole  world  of  tender- 
ness and  joy  in  those  two  words,  and  Aunt 
Bessie  felt  it. 

Maggie  said  nothing,  but  stood  with  swim- 
ming eyes,  and  rising  color,  gazing  at  her 
aunt,  till  Mrs.  Stanton  said, — 

"  Have  you  not  a  word  for  me,  dear  Mag- 
gie ? " 

Then  Maggie  gave  a  wistful  kind  of  a  smile, 


Lcnis  Sorrow.  303 

and  tried  to  speak,  but  broke  down  in  a  half- 
choked  sob. 

"  Do  not  be  worried  about  me,  dearie,"  said 
Aunt  Bessie  ;  "  I  shall  be  quite  well  again  in  a 
few  days." 

Maggie  did  not  answer,  except  by  gently 
kissing  the  poor  hurt  hand,  which  lay  upon 
the  coverlet ;  but  it  was  plainly  to  be  seen  that 
she  was  a  good  deal  excited  ;  and  Uncle  Ruth- 
ven,  fearing  one  of  her  sudden  bursts  of  cry- 
ing, said  the  children  had  stayed  long  enough, 
and  led  them  from  the  room. 

Then  Maggie's  tears  came  forth,  but  they 
were  happy  tears,  for  she  and  Bessie  were  both 
satisfied  about  Aunt  Bessie  now ;  and  she 
soon  wiped  them  away,  and  from  this  time 
was  her  own  bright,  merry  self. 

And  that  afternoon  there  was  a  new  subject 
of  interest  for  them,  for  the  weather  cleared 
up  warm  and  beautiful,  and  it  was  thought 
safe  to  bring  Dolly  to  the  better  quarters  pro- 
vided for  her.  Mrs.  Bradford  and  Mrs.  Porter 
went  to  tell  her  what  was  to  be  done,  and 


304        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

then  came  John  Porter  and  one  of  his  brothers 
to  carry  her  over.  They  lifted  her  bed  between 
them,  and  moved  as  carefully  as  possible,  but 
it  was  a  rough  way,  with  many  ups  and  downs, 
and  spite  of  all  their  care  Dolly  suffered  very 
much. 

As  they  left  the  shanty,  the  sick  child  raised 
her  head  a  little,  and,  looking  towards  the  side 
where  her  flower-pots  stood,  cried  out, — 

"  Oh !  my  posy  boxes,  bring  'em  along, 
Lem." 

Lem  obeyed,  and,  taking  up  the  two  flower- 
pots which  contained  the  scragly,  sickly  look- 
ing plants,  trotted  along  beside  Mrs.  Bradford 
with  one  on  each  arm. 

"  She  sets  such  a  heap  on  the  old  things," 
he  said  to  the  lady  as  if  in  excuse.  "  I'm  sure 
I  don't  know  what  for ;  but  since  she's  been 
better,  she's  like  crazed  about  'em,  and  would 
have  'em  brought  in  every  day  for  her  to  see. 
I've  watered  'em  all  along  'cause  he  told  me 
to." 

The  he  of  whom  Lem  spoke  was  Mr.  Stan- 


Lem's  Sorrow.  305 

ton  ;  and  whatever  he  said  and  did  had  be- 
come right  in  the  boy's  eyes.  Lena  had  im 
proved  a  good  deal  during  these  three  weeks, 
though  the  change  was  by  no  means  so  sur- 
prising in  him  as  it  was  in  Dolly.  Dolly  was 
trying  in  her  own  simple,  ignorant  way,  to 
please  that  Heavenly  Friend  of  whom  she  had 
so  lately  learned;  while  Lem,  as  yet,  looked 
no  higher  than  man's  praise.  Still  it  was 
much  that  such  a  hold  had  been  gained  upon 
the  boy.  He  looked  up  to  Mr.  Stanton  with  a 
blind  admiration  and  desire  for  his  approval, 
which  kept  him  from  much  mischief  and 
wrong-doing.  It  was  very  strange,  he  thought, 
that  this  magnificent  gentleman  —  whose  ap- 
pearance, tremendous  strength,  and  wonderful 
adventures,  made  him  a  great  hero  in  Lenvs 
eyes  —  should  trouble  and  interest  himself  so 
much  about  a  poor,  ragged  boy,  for  whom  every 
one  had  a  hard  word ;  and  who,  Lem  knew 
very  well,  richly  deserved  all  that  could  be 
said  of  him.     To  please  Mr.  Stanton  had  now 

become  the  aim  of  Lem's  life,  and  with  thip 
20 


306        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

purpose  he  was  learning  to  give  up  many  oi 
his  old  bad  ways.  Mr.  Stanton  had  even  partly 
succeeded  in  curing  him  of  his  habit  of  using 
bad  words  every  time  he  spoke.  One  day 
when  he  was  telling  the  boy  a  story  in  which 
he  was  much  interested,  Lem  suddenly  broke 
out  with  some  expression  of  delight,  mingling 
with  it  a  -dreadful  oath.  Mr.  Stanton  imme- 
diately ceased  his  tale  ;  and,  when  asked  by  Lem 
why  he  did  so,  told  him  that  he  could  not  talk 
to  a  boy  who  dared  to  take  the  name  of  his 
Maker  in  vain.  Lem  was  disappointed,  and 
angry  too,  but  it  did  him  good ;  and  when,  the 
next  day,  the  gentleman  offered  to  finish  the 
interrupted  story,  he  was  very  careful  not  to 
offend  again.  This  happened  more  than  once, 
and  each  time  Lem  became  more  unwilling  to 
risk  not  only  the  loss  of  his  story,  but  also  the 
look  of  grave  displeasure  on  his  new  friend's 
face.  He  also  tried  to  keep  the  old  place  a 
little  tidier,  and,  when  he  knew  that  any  of  the 
family  from  the  Lake  House  were  coming 
there,  would  wash  his  face  and  hands ;  and  a 


Lent's  Sorrow,  307 

comb  having  been  brought  by  some  of  the 
ladies  for  Dolly's  use,  he  would  draw  it  a  few 
times  through  his  tangled  locks.  On  the  day 
before  this,  Mrs.  Bradford  had  given  him  an 
old  suit  of  Harry's,  and  he  was  now  dressed 
in  this,  which,  though  too  large  for  him,  was 
at  least  clean  and  whole ;  and  a  proud  boy  was 
Lem  as  he  walked  by  the  lady's  side. 

Lem  thought  himself  rather  a  hero,  and  not 
without  reason,  for  the  share  he  had  had  in 
saving  young  Mrs.  Stanton's  life ;  and  was 
much  inclined  to  talk  of  it  to  any  one  who 
would  listen  to  him.  He  was  still  rather  shy 
of  the  boys  ;  but  since  the  little  girls  had  been 
so  often  to  see  Dolly,  he  had  been  quite  friendly 
with  them  ;  and  they  were  ready  enough  to 
allow  him  all  the  credit  he  deserved  for  the 
service  he  had  rendered  to  their  dear  Aunt 
Bessie.  Poor  boy  !  praise  and  encouragement 
were  so  new  to  him,  that  it  was  perhaps  no 
wonder  he  craved  all  that  could  fall  to  him. 

On  that  memorable  afternoon,  he  had  been 
sitting  on  the  rock  in  front  of  the  hut,  watch- 


308        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

ing  our  friends  as  they  sauntered  down  the 
road  below  him.  He  saw  them  stop,  some  sit- 
ting down  to  rest,  while  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stan- 
ton and  the  little  girls  wandered  about  in 
search  of  flowers. 

He  saw  the  lady  fall,  and  was  off  in  an  in 
stant,  dashing  over  every  thing  which  lay  in  his 
way,  with  a  reckless,  headlong  speed,  that  soon 
brought  him  to  the  spot.  Thanks  to  his  wild, 
rambling  life,  Lem  knew  every  foot  of  the 
mountain,  and,  even  as  he  went,  thought  of 
what  he  might  do,  quite  sure  that  he  could 
keep  his  footing  on  that  narrow  ledge,  if  he 
could  but  once  reach  it.  How  well  he  had 
done,  we  know ;  and  Lem  knew  right  well 
himself,  and  meant  that  others  should  know 
it  too.  Too  much  puffed  up  in  his  own  con- 
ceit, he  certainly  was ;  but  we  must  remember 
how  ignorant  he  was,  and  even  this  was  better 
than  that  he  should  feel  himself  the  miserable, 
degraded  outcast  of  a  few  weeks  since,  whose 
"  hand  was  against  every  man,  and  every 
man's  hand  against  him.,, 


Lent's  Sorrow,  309 

He  bad  not  seen  Mr.  Stanton  since  the  day 
of  the  accident ;  for,  now  that  his  wife  was  ill, 
the  gentleman  had  not  the  time  and  attention 
to  give  to  him  and  Dolly  that  he  had  before ; 
but  he  knew  that  he  was  not  forgotten,  for 
more  than  one  kind  message  had  been  sent 
to  him. 

"  Think  I  could  get  a  sight  of  my  gentle- 
man, to-day  ?  "  he  asked  of  Mrs.  Bradford. 

"  Of  my  brother  ?  "  said  the  lady.  "  Yes,  I 
think  so ;  he  said  he  would  see  you  when  you 
came  to  the  Lake  House. " 

"  That  was  a  fustrate  job  I  did  for  him  — 
getting  the  lady  up  ;  now,  warn't  it  ?  He  said 
he'd  never  forget  it." 

"  We  shall  none  of  us  forget  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Bradford  ;  "  but,  Lem,  when  one  has  done  a 
great  kindness  to  another  person,  it  is  better 
not  to  talk  of  it  too  much." 

"  No,  I  aint  goin'  to,"  said  Lem,  with  a  self- 
satisfied  air.  "  I'll  tell  you  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  me,  the  lady  would  have  been  gone  afore 
those  fellers  got   there  with    the   ropes.     Ho 


310        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

couldn't  ha'  held  on  much  longer,  and  like 
enough  they'd  hoth  gone  down  together." 

Mrs.  Bradford  shuddered  at  the  thought. 

"  Now,  what  do  you  s'pose  he's  goiu'  to  do 
for  me  ?  "  continued  Lem.  "  Somethin'  fust- 
rate  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  is  going  to  try  to  teach  you  to 
do  right,  and  to  put  you  in  the  way  of  earning 
an  honest  living,  Lem.  What  would  you  like 
him  to  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Lem,  "  you  give  me  these 
clothes,  and  now  I'd  just  as  lieve  he'd  give  me 
one  of  his  old  hats  and  a  red  shirt ;  so  I'd  be 
decent-like  ;  and  then  I'd  like  him  to  get  me 
to  be  an  engine  driver  on  one  of  them  rail- 
roads. If  it  wasn't  for  Dolly  I'd  like  to  be  sent 
off  on  a  ship  to  the  place  where  the  tigers  and 
elephants  is,  so  I  could  hunt  'em.  But  then 
she'd  be  lonesome  after  me ;  and  if  I  was  en- 
gine driver,  I  could  come  home  every  spell  and 
see  her.  And  I'm  goin'  to  fix  her  a  fustrate 
home,  when  I  get  a  livin'.  But  I  was  thmkin' 
what  will  I  do  with  her  meantime.     Do  you 


LenCs  Sorrow,  311 

think  if  he  spoke  a  word  for  her,  Porters  would 
let  her  stay  round  their  place  ?  I  guess  she 
wouldn't  plague  'em  none  now;  and, when  she 
gets  well,  she  could  do  errands  and  such  like 
for  them." 

Mrs.  Bradford  thought  this  a  fitting  time  to 
tell  Lem  what  he  must  know  sooner  or  later. 

"  Dolly  is  going  to  a  better  home  than  any 
that  you  or  we  can  give  her,  Lem,"  she  said, 
gently.  "  She  is  going  to  that  home  which 
Jesus  has  made  ready  for  her,  —  His  own 
bright,  glorious  heaven,  where  she  will  never 
be  tired  or  sick  or  hungry  any  more." 

Lem  stopped  short  in  the  path,  and  turned 
to  the  lady. 

"  She  aint,  I  tell  you,"  he  said,  fiercely. 
"You  mean  she's  a  goin'  to  be  an  angel, — 
what   she's   always   talking   about  nowadays, 

—  and  she'll  have  to  die  for  that,  —  lie  said  so, 

—  and  she  aint  agoin'  to.  She's  better  now,  I 
know ;  for  she  don't  screech  out  with  the  pain 
like  she  used  Jto." 

"No,"    said  Mrs.   Bradford,  standing   still 


312        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

beside  him,  as  he  looked  down  the  path  after 
Dolly  and  her  bearers,  "  she  does  not  suffer  as 
she  did  ;  but  she  is  more  ill  and  grows  weaker 
every  day.  She  cannot  live  many  days,  Lem ; 
and  she  knows  that  she  is  going  to  Jesus,  and 
wanted  that  you  should  be  told." 

Lem  set  down  the  flower-pots,  and  dug  his 
knuckles  into  his  eyes. 

"  She  shan't  neither,"  he  exclaimed.  "  I'm 
goin'  to  ask  him  to  make  her  well.  He  can  do 
it,  I  know  ;  and,  if  he  will,  I  won't  ask  him  for 
nothin'  else  along  of  the  good  turn  I  done  him, 
gettin'  up  the  lady." 

"  My  poor  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford,  pitying- 
ly, "  neither  my  brother,  nor  any  other  person 
can  do  more  for  Dolly  than  to  make  her  com- 
fortable for  the  few  days  she  will  be  here.  Her 
life  is  not  in  his  hands,  or  in  the  doctor's,  but 
in  those  of  God,  who  sees  best  to  take  her  to 
Himself." 

Lem  threw  himself  passionately  upon  the 
ground. 

"  'Taint  fair,"  he  sobbed.     "  She's  all  I've 


Lent's  Sorrow.  313 

got,  and  I  always  was  good  to  her,  now;  ask 
her  if  I  wasn't.  I  always  gave  her  half  what 
I  got,  and  I  saved  her  many  a  beatin'." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford,  sitting  down 
beside  him,  and  laying  her  hand  with  a  sooth- 
ing touch  upon  his  arm,  "  Dolly  says  you 
have  been  a  good  brother  to  her,  and  the  only 
thing  that  makes  her  sorry  to  go  is  the  fear 
that  you  may  miss  her." 

"  Like  enough  I'll  miss  her,"  said  Lem,  in  a 
sullen  kind  of  sorrow. 

"  But,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford, "  you  may  see  her 
again  if  you  will  live  so  that  Jesus  may  some 
day  take  you  to  dwell  with  Him  in  His  glorious 
home.     Will  you  not  try  to  do  this,  Lem  ?  " 

"  Couldn't  no  way,"  replied  Lem,  sitting  up- 
right ;  "  they  say  only  good  folks  get  to  heaven, 
and  don't  you  know  they  say  I'm  the  worst 
boy  here  about  ?  They  used  to  say  Doll  was 
the  worst  girl  too,  and —  don't  you  tell  nobody 
I  said  it  —  she  did  do  a  heap  of  bad  things, 
that's  so  !    How's  she  goin'  to  get  to  heaven  ?  " 

u  God  says  in   His   Word,  4  believe   on   the 


314        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

Lord  Jesus  Christ  and  thou  shalt  be  saved.' 
Dolly  docs  believe  on  her  Saviour,  and  He  will 
wash  lier  soul  from  all  its  sin  and  fit  it  to  live 
with  Him.  He  has  given  her  but  little  time  to 
serve  Him  on  earth  since  she  has  learned  to 
love  and  trust  Him ;  but  she  is  doing  all  that 
she  can:  she  is  sorry  for  past  sin,  and  what- 
ever she  thinks  Jesus  would  like  her  to  do, 
she  tries  to  do." 

"  She's  gcttin'  awful  good,  that's  true,"  said 
Lcm.  "  She  made  you  take  back  old  Miss 
Ma  pes'  handkercher,  and  made  me  go  and  tell 
Miss  Jones  she  was  sorry  for  unhookin'  her 
clothes-line  and  lettin'  down  the  clothes  in  the 
dirt ;  and,  oh  !  do  you  think,  there's  the  biggest 
kind  of  a  squash  down  in  Todd's  cornfield, 
and  I  was  a  goin'  to  get  it  for  him,  and  Dol 
coaxed  me  not.  She  said  'twant  right ;  and, 
when  I  said  I  guessed  God  had  liever  he'd  have 
it  than  Farmer  Todd,  she  said,  No  :  God  gave  it 
to  Todd,  and  so  he  ought  to  have  it.  She  was 
so  set  about  it,  I  had  to  tell  her  I  wouldn't 
take  it." 


Lcirts  Sorrow.  315 

"  Such  things  show  Dolly's  true  repentance 
and  love  to  her  Saviour,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford. 
"  If  we  wish  to  please  Jesus  and  come  to 
Him,  and  are  truly  sorry  for  the  wrong  things 
we  have  done,  we  will  try  to  undo  them  so  far 
as  we  can." 

She  talked  to  Lem  a  little  more  of  Dolly's 
new  hope,  and  the  Saviour's  great  love  and 
forgiveness,  and  then  told  him  they  had  better 
go  on. 

"  Wonder  what  she  wants  these  for,  if  she's 
goin'  away  to  leave  'em,"  said  Lem,  sorrowfully, 
as  he  took  up  his  flower-pots. 

"  Sick  people  often  take  such  fancies,"  said 
Mrs.  Bradford  ;  u  and  when  Dolly  has  gone  you 
will  be  glad  to  think  that  you  have  pleased  her 
by  even  such  a  small  thing  as  caring  for  her 
plants." 

"  And  I  do  think  they've  picked  Tip  a 
bit,"  said  Lem.  "  Sec,  this  one  has  two  buds  on 
it.     1  wouldn't  wonder  if  they  made  flowers." 

When  Mrs.  Bradford  and  Lem  reached  the 
tool-house,  or  "  Dolly's  home,"  as  the  children 


3  ib        Bessie  among  the  Mountains.  ^ 

now  called  it,  they  found  the  sick  girl  laid 
comfortably  in  the  neat  bed  which  had  been 
provided  for  her ;  while  Mrs.  Rush  and  Mrs. 
Porter  were  beside  her,  feeding  her  with  sorno 
nice  beef-tea. 

"  Good  Lem,"  she  cried,  when  she  saw  the 
flower-pots ;  and  then,  turning  to  Mrs  Porter, 
she  asked,  "  Could  you  let  them  stay  here  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,  child,"  said  Mrs.  Porter ;  and 
Mrs. Bradford,  taking  the  flower-pots  from  Lem, 
placed  them  in  the  little  casement  window 
opposite  to  Dolly's  bed.  Dolly  looked  pleased, 
but  she  was  too  much  worn  out  to  say  more  ; 
and,  when  she  had  taken  her  tea,  turned  her 
face  on  her  pillow,  and  fell  into  the  most  quiet 
eleep  she  had  had  since  her  illness. 


XVII. 

DOLLT  GOES  HOME. 


AY  after  day  of  the  lovely  September 
weather  passed  by,  bringing  change  to 
God's  world  without  and  within.  The 
days  were  warm  and  sunny,  but  the  nights 
were  cool ;  and  now  and  then  came  the  quiet 
frost,  painting  the  grand  old  forest-trees  and 
their  clinging  vines.  The  Virginia  creepers  — 
always  the  first  to  change  —  turned  a  bright 
crimson ;  here  and  there  a  maple  flung  out  a 
scarlet  branch,  like  a  gorgeous  banner  in  the 
air  ;  while  chestnuts  and  birch  showed  a  few 
golden  leaves,  in  beautiful  contrast  to  the  vivid 
green  of  the  foliage  which  was  yet  untouched. 
Each  day  Aunt  Bessie  improved.  She  came 
out  among  the  family  once  more,  and  sat  with 
them  in  hall,  parlor,  and  piazza,  and  even  took 


318       Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

short  drives  and  walks,  though  she  was  still 
pale,  and  the  poor  hurt  arm  could  not  yet  be 
taken  from  the  sling.  But,  as  she  said,  she  had 
now  a  dozen  pairs  of  hands  instead  of  one,  for 
all  were  anxious  to  serve  her,  and  could  not 
do  enough  for  the  dear  treasure  they  had  so 
nearly  lost. 

But,  though  strength  and  health  came  to 
her  with  tender  nursing  and  the  lovely  air 
and  sunny  days,  they  did  not  bring  them  to  the 
poor  little  waif  who  had  been  cast  upon  the  care 
and  pity  of  these  kind  friends.  She  did  not 
suffer  much  now,  except  when  the  cough  racked 
her  poor  little  wasted  frame;  but  she  grew 
weaker  and  weaker,  and  all  knew  that  the  end 
must  soon  come.  Dolly  had  long  been  ailing, 
far  more  so  than  she  imagined.  Lem  knew 
no  more  than  herself,  and  there  had  been  no 
one  else  to  care  for  her.  There  had  been 
no  mother's  quickened  ear  to  mark  the  warn- 
ing cough,  no  mother's  loving  eye  to  see  the 
sunken  cheek,  no  mother's  tender  hand  to 
guard   her   child  from   damp  and  cold;    and 


Dolly  goes  Home.  319 

so  the  trouble  had  gone  on  unheeded  and  un- 
checked, till  the  night  spent  in  the  Ice  Glen 
had  finished  the  mischief  already  at  work. 

Maggie  and  Bessie  came  in  to  see  her  very 
often,  bringing  her  fruit  and  flowers,  and  now 
and  then  some  other- little  offering  ;  some  dainty 
which  had  been  given  to  themselves  and  saved 
for  her,  a  picture  or  a  toy.  For  the  toys  she 
did  not  care  much ;  indeed,  they  were  so  new 
to  her  that  she  scarcely  understood  them,  and 
was  too  weak  to  play  with  them  ;  but  the  pic- 
tures always  interested  her,  especially  one  of 
Christ  blessing  little  children,  which  Bessie  had 
brought  her.  She  would  lie  for  hours  with 
this  in  her  hand,  looking  at  it  now  and  then 
with  a  pleased,  happy  smile,  which  said  that  it 
told  its  own  story  to  her. 

But  as  the  poor  little  body  grew  weaker,  her 
love  and  trust  in  her  Saviour  grew  stronger 
and  brighter.  A  very  simple  faith  was  that  of 
poor  Dolly ;  but  she  knew  in  whom  she  had 
trusted.  —  the  Jesus  who  had  died  on  the  cross 
to  save  her  soul  and  fit  it  for  His  heaven ;  and 


320       Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

who  had  said,  "  Suffer  little  children  to  come 
unto  me."  And  the  "  little  one,',  as  she  called 
Bessie,  had  told  her  that  Jesus  meant  all  little 
children ;  that  whoever  would,  might  come  to 
this  blessed  Saviour,  and  he  would  take  them 
in  His  arms,  and  love  and  care  for  them.  And 
Dolly  "loved  Him  because  he  had  first  loved  " 
her,  and  longed  j:o  go  and  live  with  Him  for 
ever  in  that  bright  world  where  she  had  been 
told  He  waited  for  her. 

It  was  wonderful  to  see  how,  without  any 
direct  teaching,  she  caught  the  words  of  the 
hymns  the  children  sang  to  her,  and  how  she 
would  fit  them  to  herself  and  her  own  needs. 

As  for  Lem,  he  watched  her  with  a  sort  of 
dumb  sorrow  which  was  touching  to  see.  When 
he  first  saw  Mr.  Stanton,  he  made  a  piteous 
appeal  to  him,  "  to  get  her  well,  not  to  let  her 
die;"  and  when  the  gentleman  told  him,  as 
Mrs.  Bradford  had  done,  that  he  could  do  noth- 
ing, and  that  life  and  death  were  in  the  hands 
of  God,  who  saw  fit  to  take  Dolly  to  Himself, 
he  refused  to  speak  or  think  of  any  thing  for 
his  own  good 


Dolly  goes  Home,  321 

"  Lem,"  said  Dolly  to  him  one  day,  "  wliy 
don't  you  be  glad  I'm  going  to  Jesus  ?  I'm 
glad.    I  asked  Him  a  many  times  to  take  me." 

"  'Cause  I  can't,"  said  Lem,  sullenly.  "  I 
thought  we  was  goin'  to  get  along  fustrate  if 
he  looked  after  us  ;  but  'taint  no  good  gettin' 
to  be  engine  driver  now,  if  you're  goin'  away." 

"  Oh,  yes',  it  is  !  "  said  Dolly  ;  "  and  you'll  be 
good,  won't  you,  Lem,  and  not  steal  no  more, 
and  try  to  come  to  Jesus  too  ;  and  I'll  ask  Him 
to  help  you  like  He  helped  me  ? " 

"  I  don't  see  as  it's  much  help  to  make  you 
sick  and  let  you  die,"  said  Lem. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Dolly.  "  I  guess,  may- 
be it's  just  the  bein'  sick  and  dyin'  is  a  good 
help.  You  know,  Lem,  if  I  hadn't  a  been  sick 
and  the  little  one  found  me  there,  I'd  never  a 
heard  about  Jesus,  and  I  guess  the  best  help 
ne  can  give  me  is  to  take  me  right  up  there. 
I  asked  little  one  t'other  day  how  she  come  in 
that  out-of-the-way  place,  where  I  thought 
nobody  never  come  'cept  for  hidin',  and  she 

said  the  man  brought  her ;    but  she  thought 
21 


322        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

Jesus  sent  him,  so  she  could  tell  me  'bout  Him. 
I  guess  lie  did  too  ;  I  guess  He  knew  I  was  lone- 
some and  tired,  and  would  like  to  be  an  angel. 
Don't  you  think  that  was  help,  Lem  ;  and  wasn't 
He  good  to  let  it  come  to  me  ?  " 

This  had  been  said  with  many  a  pause  and 
very  feebly,  for  Dolly  was  too  weak  to  talk 
much  now  ;  and  a  sudden  fit  of  coughing  took 
away  her  breath  before  Lem  could  answer. 

The  dying  child  had  never  lost  her  interest  in 
the  poor,  sickly  marigolds  in  her  pots.  They 
had  for  some  reason,  too,  thrived  rather  better 
in  their  new  home,  and  the  two  buds  Lem  had 
pointed  out  to  Mrs.  Bradford  had  grown  larger, 
and  one  of  them  was  now  opening  into  a  ragged, 
stunted  flower.  But  it  was  very  beautiful  in 
poor  Dolly's  eyes,  for  she  had  raised  and  cared 
for  it  herself;  and  no  other  blossom  could  be 
so  lovely  for  her.  But  the  more  she  loved  and 
cherished  her  own  plant,  the  more  bitterly  did 
she  grieve  over  the  destruction  of  the  gardens 
of  the  two  little  girls  who  had  been  so  kind 
and  forgiving  to  her.     She  knew  for  what  pur- 


Dolly  goes  Home.  323 

pose  they  had  taken  so  much  pains  with  them, 
especially  with  the  heliotrope  and  geranium 
which  had  been  so  ruthlessly  torn  to  pieces ; 
for  Mrs.  Porter  had  told  her,  and  her  sorrow  and 
repentance  were  very  bitter  and  very  sincere. 

One  Sunday  morning,  towards  the  end  of 
September,  Maggie  and  Bessie  went  over  with 
their  mother  to  see  her.  She  was  lying  with 
her  sunken  eyes  fixed  on  the  marigolds,  which 
stood  on  a  small  table  beside  the  bed  ;  and,  oh, 
how  wan,  white,,  and  wasted  she  looked  !  Yet 
there  was  a  look  of  perfect  peace  on  the  poor 
face;  and,  when  the  children  came  in,  she  turned 
to  them  with  a  bright  smile. 

"  They're  coming  on  nice,  aint  they?"  she 
said  ;  "  don't  they  look  pretty  ?  " 

Maggie  and  Bessie  were  rather  uncomforta- 
ble, for  they  did  not  think  the  forlorn  marigolds 
pretty,  and  they  did  not  wisli  to  hurt  Dolly's 
feelings  by  saying  so  ;  but  mamma  came  to  their 
relief,  by  saying,  as  she  could  with  truth, — 

"  It  has  agreed  with  your  pets  to  be  up  here, 
Dolly  ;  they  have  done  better  since  you  came." 


324        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

"  Yes,"  said  Dolly ;  and  then  asked, "  Could 
you  give  me  a  nice  bit  of  white  paper  and  a 
scissor  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford,  and  sent 
Maggie  over  to  the  house  for  these  things. 

When  Maggie  came  back,  Dolly  wanted  to 
raise  herself  and  take  the  things  from  her,  but 
could  not  do  it.  Mrs.  Bradford  put  her  arm 
under  the  pillow  and  lifted  her.  Then  the 
child  tried  to  fold  and  cut  the  paper ;  but  the 
trembling  fingers  had  no  power,  and  paper 
and  scissors  fell  from  them ;  while  Dolly 
looked  about  her  with  a  piteous,  disappointed 
air. 

"  What  is  it  you  want,  Dolly  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Bradford  ;  "  cannot  we  do  it  for  you  ?  " 

■l  I  know,"  said  Lem  ;  "  she  wants  to  fix  up 
her  posy,  like  the  gardener  fixes  'em  up  to  the 
big  farm."  Lem  meant  the  homestead.  "  She 
seen  him  through  the  hedge,  one  day,  doin'  of 
it,  and  she  said  this  mornin'  she  wanted  hers 
fixed  up  that  way." 

Mrs.  Bradford  understood  at  once.     Poor, 


Dolly  goes  Home.  325 

simple  Dolly  had  seen  the  gardener  shielding 
his  choice  blossoms  by  a  circlet  of  fringed 
paper ;  and  she  would  fain  do  as  much  for  the 
stunted  little  favorite  which  was  so  lovely  in 
her  eyes. 

"  Maggie  will  cut  it  for  you,"  said  the  lady ; 
and,  under  her  mother's  direction,  Maggie's 
deft  little  fingers  soon  prepared  the  paper  to 
suit  Dolly. 

But  she  could  not  be  satisfied  without  put- 
ting it  about  the  flower  with  her  own  hands, 
while  Lem  held  the  pot  for  her ;  and  it  was 
touching  to  see  how  the  poor,  wasted  fingers 
fluttered  feebly  about  the  blossom  that  was  to 
outlive  her,  —  touching  it  so  tenderly,  and 
folding  the  fringed  paper  about  it  with  such 
care.  It  was  done  at  last,  and,  as  Mrs.  Brad- 
ford laid  her  back,  she  looked  at  her  work  with 
a  contented  smile  ;  and  then,  exhausted  with 
the  effort,  closed  her  eyes,  and  whispered 
faintly,  "  Sing." 

The  little  ones  sang  her  favorite  hymns,  until 
she  slept,  —  slept  the  last  sleep  which  was  to 


326        Bessi  e  among  th  e  Mo  tin  tains . 

know  an  awakening  upon  earth,  —  and  then 
stole  softly  out  with  their  mother. 

But  mamma  was  back  and  forth  all  day,  — 
far  more  so  than  usual ;  and  in  the  afternoon, 
when  the  hour  came  for  Sunday  school,  the 
children,  knowing  she  was  there,  ran  over 
to  give  her  a  kiss  before  they  went  to  their 
class. 

"  We'll  ask  Dolly  what  she  wants  us  to 
sing,"  said  Maggie ;  "  for  you  know  she  can 
hear  us  quite  well  from  our  Sunday  bower." 

The  door  stood  open,  for  the  day  was  so  soft 
and  warm,  that,  save  for  the  changing  leaves 
which  showed  that  autumn  was  at  hand,  they 
might  have  thought  themselves  in  midsum 
mer.  It  was  a  lovely  afternoon,  —  scarce  a 
breath  of  air  was  stirring,  and  the  lake  lay 
calm  and  placid,  the  trees  and  rocks  reflected 
on  its  surface  with  surprising  clearness.  A 
Sabbath  hush  was  in  the  air  ;  a  kind  of  glory 
from  the  golden  sunshine  seemed  to  fall  on 
all  around,  —  on  lake  and  mountain,  woods 
and  rocks,  on  the  lawn  and  the  cosy  old  house. 


Dolly  goes  Home \  327 

It  streamed  through  the  lattice  of  Dolly's  little 
window  too,  and  fell  upon  the  small  head 
which  lay  on  the  pillow.  Mrs.  Porter  would 
have  shut  it  out ;  but  Dolly  murmured,  "  No, 
110,"  and  seemed  to  like  it. 

There  was  even  a  deeper  stillness  within  the 
room  than  without,  for  there  was  an  angel  wait- 
ing there,  and  those  who  watched  little  Dolly 
felt  his  presence. 

The  children  felt  the  solemn  hush ;  and 
their  little  feet  paused  upon  the  threshold  of 
the  open  door.  Mamma  and  papa  were  there, 
Uncle  Ruthven  and  Mrs.  Porter ;  and  poor 
Lem,  crouched  at  Mr.  Stanton's  feet,  his  hands 
clasped  about  his  knees,  his  head  bent  upon 
them. 

Mamma  put  out  her  hand,  and  beckoned  to 
the  children  ;  and,  with  careful  steps,  they  came 
to  the  bedside. 

"  Would  you  like  to  speak  to  my  little  girls, 
Dolly  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Bradford,  gently. 

Dolly  opened  her  eyes,  and  fixed  them  on 
he  children,  with  a  wistful  smile. 


328        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

"  You  was  good  to  Doll,"  she  said,  in  a  faint 
wrhJsper.  "  Jesus  sent  you.  He  loves  you, 
'cause  you  was  good  —  and  —  I'll  be  an  angel 
—  and  tell  Him  —  you  teached  me  about  Him, 
and  —  He'll  love  you  more.     Good-by." 

"  Good-by,  Dolly,"  said  Bessie,  not  knowing 
this  was  to  be  the  last  good-by,  and  yet  with  the 
tears  gathering  in  her  eyes. 

"  Good-by,  Dolly,"  whispered  Maggie  ;  "  we 
are  going  to  our  Sunday  school,  and  you  will 
hear  us  sing." 

"  We'll  think  a  good  deal  about  you,  and 
sing  all  your  hymns,  shall  we  ?  "  asked  Bes- 
sie. 

"  Rest  for  the  weary,"  sighed  Dolly. 

"  My  darlings,"  said  mamma,  "  ask  Aunt 
May  to  leave  the  lessons  for  this  afternoon,  and 
let  you  sing  as  long  as  you  can  ; "  and  draw- 
ing them  to  her,  she  kissed  first  one,  and  then 
the  other,  with  a  long,  tender  kiss. 

Dolly's  eyes  followed  them,  as  they  went 
out,  and  then  came  back  to  Mrs.  Bradford's 
face  with  a  Ion  sins:,  wistful  look. 


Dolly  goes  Home.  329 

"  What  is  it,  my  child  ?  "  asked  the  lady. 

"  I  guess,  if  I'd  had  a  mother,  she'd  kiss  me, 
like  that,  —  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Shall  I  kiss  you,  Dolly  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Brad- 
ford, with  tearful  eyes. 

"  Could  you  ?  "  said  Dolly,  with  a  brighten- 
ing look. 

Warm  from  the  loving  mother's  heart  came 
the  motherly  kiss,  which  Dolly  had  never 
known  before  ;  and  with  a  long,  satisfied  sigh, 
she  again  closed  her  eyes. 

Then  came  the  sweet  voices  of  the  children 
and  their  teacher,  hymn  after  hymn  of  infant 
praise  floating  in,  as  it  seemed,  on  that  soft, 
shimmering  sunshine,  and  filling  the  little 
room  with  music.  Dolly  lay  still,  and  they 
could  not  tell  whether  she  were  listening  or 
not.  Presently,  she  opened  her  eyes  again, 
started,  and  murmured,  — 

"  Oh  !  I  don't  want  to  go  in  the  Ice  Glen ; 
it's  dark  and  cold,"  —  then,  more  gently, "  well, 
never  mind ;  Jesus  will  take  care  of  me,  I 
guess,  —  yes,  Jesus  will.     He'll  let  me  —  be 


330        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

an  angel  —  to  praise  Him  —  day  —  and  — 
night.     He  does — care  —  for  me." 

Slowly,  slowly  the  words  dropped  from  her 
lips  ;  then  came  one  or  two  fluttering  sighs ; 
and  a  little  ransomed  soul,  thirsting  for  the 
water  of  life,  had  flown  away,  and  was  safe 
within  the  bosom  of  Him  who  has  said, "  Suffer 
little  children  to  come  unto  me."  The  little, 
weary,  homesick  child  had  gone  home  to  the 
love  that  never  fails,  to  the  care  that  never 
tires. 

Lem  came  over  to  the  Lake  House,  the  next 
day,  carrying  one  of  Dolly's  flower-pots  on 
each  arm  ;  and,  setting  them  down  before  Mag- 
gie and  Bessie,  who  were  on  the  piazza  with 
Uncle  Ruth veu  and  Aunt  Bessie,  drew  his 
sleeve  across  his  eyes,  and  said, — 

"  She  telled  me  I  was  to  bring  'em  to  you, 
and  say,  maybe  they'd  go  a  little  bit  to  make 
up  for  the  sp'ilin'  of  your  gardens,  and  maybe, 
when  the  flowers  was  out,  they'd  do  to  go  to 
the  show.  That  was  what  she  was  settm' 
so  much  by  'em  for,  when  she  lay  a  dyin'." 


Dolly  goes  Home.  331 

The  tears  which  had  not  fallen  over  the 
happy  little  child  who  had  gone  to  be  an  angel, 
fell  fast  over  the  simple  tokens  of  gratitude 
and  repentance  she  had  left  behind  her ;  and 
faithful  was  the  care  bestowed  upon  them  by 
our  Maggie  and  Bessie. 

Not  with  any  thought  of  taking  them  to  the 
flower  show,  however ;  it  was  only  for  Dolly's 
sake :  it  would  never  do  to  display  these 
wretched  little  plants  beside  some  of  the 
really  beautiful  and  flourishing  things  which 
their  more  fortunate  brothers  and  cousins  had 
raised.  Besides,  these  were  not  of  their  own 
growing,  and  Maggie  and  Bessie  had,  long 
since,  given  up  all  thought  of  trying  for  a 
prize. 

A  few  days  after  Dolly's  death,  Mrs.  Bradford 
took  up  Maggie's  second  volume  of  "  The  Com- 
plete Family,"  which  she  had  not  looked  over 
for  some  time,  and  there  she  found  written 
something  which  touched  her  very  much.  Min- 
gled with  many  other  things,  giving  an  account 
of  their  summer   among  the  mountains,  and 


33 2        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

written  in  Maggie's  own  droll,  peculiar  way,  ran 
the  story  of  Lem  and  Dolly,  of  their  persecu- 
tions, and  of  the  difficulty  she  and  Bessie  had 
had  in  forgiving  their  many  injuries ;  but  all 
that  was  not  new  to  the  mother,  who  now  read 
for  the  first  time  what  Maggie  had  written  dur- 
ing the  last  week.  It  ran  thus,  leaving  out 
Maggie's  mistakes :  — 

"  M.  and  B.  Happy  were  very  thankful  to 
our  Father  in  heaven,  because  he  let  them  be 
of  a  mind  to  forgive  Dolly.  If  they  had  not 
forgiven  her,  and  made  up  their  resolutions  to 
do  a  kind  thing  for  her,  then  B.  would  have 
run  away  when  she  saw  Dolly,  and  not  waited 
to  speak  to  her  and  give  the  banana,  and  so 
nobody  might  have  known  that  Dolly  was  sick, 
and  she  might  have  died  without  knowing 
about  Jesus,  who  died  for  her ;  but  she  never 
knew  it  till  Bessie  told  her.  And,  oh,  how 
dreadful  that  would  have  been  for  M.  and  B. 
Happy !  but  God  was  so  good  as  to  spare  them 
of  it,  and  Dolly  learned  about  Jesus,  and  loved 
Him,  and  wanted  to  please  Him,  only  she  did 


Dolly  goes  Home,  333 

not  have  much  time ;  but  Jesus  does  not  care 
about  that,  so  long  as  she  believed  on  Him, 
and  loved  Him,  and  He  took  Dolly  away  to  His 
own  heaven  to  live  with  Him.  And  M.  and  B. 
Happy  were  happy  about  it,  even  if  Dolly  was 
dead,  because  papa  and  mamma,  and  all  our 
grown-up,  wise  people,  think  she  is  happy 
with  Jesus  ;  and  we  hope  our  Father  will  let 
it  be  a  little  jewel  to  carry  to  Him,  when  the 
angel  takes  us  over  the  river,  and  the  Elder 
Brother  will  say  we  did  it  unto  Him,  because 
we  did  it  to  His  poor  little  lamb  that  did  not 
know  about  Him.  And  now  M.  and  B.  Happy 
do  not  mind  so  much  about  the  gardens,  even 
though  they  can't  try  for  a  prize,  and  B.  says 
she  had  rather  have  Dolly's  little  marigold  than 
the  prettiest  prize  that  ever  was,  but  I  am 
afraid  M.  would  not;  but  then,  you  see,  she 
is  not  so  very  perfect  as  B.,  and  besides  I 
don't  like  the  smell  of  the  marigolds :  I  think 
it's  awful.  And  God  let  M.  have  a  very  happy 
dream.  M.  knows  it  is  foolish  to  think  much 
about  dreams,  because  they  are  not  a  bit  of 


334       Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

consequence,  and  she  hopes  any  one  who  reads 
this  will  not  think  she  was  so  foolish  as  to 
believe  an)7  thing  about  it ;  but  it  did  make  her 
feel  a  little  glad  about  it,  and  B.  liked  it  too. 
The  dream  was  this :  I  was  out  by  the  lake 
with  Bessie,  but  it  was  the  night,  and  oh ! 
there  were  so  very  many  stars,  and  Dolly's 
little  bed  was  out  by  the  lake  too,  and  she 
was  in  it,  quite  alive.  And  we  heard  voices 
all  around,  but  we  could  not  see  where  they 
came  from  ;  but  we  knew  it  was  the  angels,  and 
they  were  calling  to  Dolly,  and  she  came  out 
of  her  bed,  and  tried  to  go,  but  she  could  not, 
because  she  had  no  wings.  Then  such  a  beau- 
tiful thing  happened,  —  the  stars  came  down 
out  of  the  sky,  and  fixed  themselves  down  to 
the  ground  where  Dolly  stood,  and  she  went 
up,  up,  up  on  them,  just  as  if  they  were  steps, 
to  heaven.  And  when  she  stepped  over  each 
one,  it  went  right  back  to  its  place  in  the  sky ; 
but  it  left  a  long  light  behind  it,  like  the  shoot- 
ing star  we  saw  the  other  night ;  and  at  the 
top  of  the  stair  of  stars  was  a  soft,  white  cloud  ; 


Dolly  goes  Home.  335 

and  when  Dolly  came  to  it,  a  hand  came  out 
of  the  cloud,  and  took  her  in,  and  we  knew 
she  was  quite  safe,  and  would  never  come 
back  again.  But  for  all  I  was  glad  M.  cried, 
and  dear  mamma  came  and  woke  her  up,  and 
asked  me  why  I  cried,  and  kissed  me,  and  I 
told  her  I  was  glad  Dolly  went  to  heaven, 
because  she  had  no  precious  mamma  to  kiss 
and  love  her,  or  to  tell  her  troubles  and  happi- 
nesses to.  So  it  was  a  very  happy,  grateful 
thing,  all  about  Dolly." 

A  very  happy,  grateful  thing,  the  dear 
mamma  thought  it  too  ;  and  very  happy,  grate- 
ful tears  were  those  which  dimmed  her  eyes 
as  she  read  her  little  daughter's  simple  story, 
and  then  thanked  God  that  the  lessons  of  love 
and  forgiveness  which  were  given  to  her  little 
ones  fell  not  upon  stony  ground,  but  took  root 
and  bore  precious  fruit  iu  those  tender  young 
hearts. 


XVIII. 


GOOD-BT    TO    CHALECOO. 

ND  now  there  was  much  talk  of  going 
home,  and  the  time  for  the  flower  show 
was  at  hand,  and  our  Maggie  and  Bes- 
sie could  not  help  a  little  feeling  of  sorrow, 
that  they  had  nothing  to  show  that  they  had 
tried  to  do  as  well  as  the  others.  They  had 
thought  they  should  not  mind  it  so  very  much  ; 
but  as  the  time  drew  near,  they  found  they 
did ;  and  many  a  sigh  and  sad  thought  went 
to  the  memory  of  the  lost  heliotrope  and  gera- 
nium. 

The  day  came,  and  the  whole  party  from  the 
Lake  House,  from  grandmamma  down  to  baby, 
were  to  go  and  spend  the  day  at  the  home- 
stead, and  to  have  a  grand  family  dinner  after 
the  flower  show. 


Good-by  to  Chalecoo.  337 

Soon  after  breakfast,  the  wagons  came  to  the 
door,  and  the  happy,  merry  party  were  ready 
to  be  packed  in.  The  boys  had  already  taken 
their  seats  in  the  last  one,  where  the  prize 
(lowers  and  vegetables  had  been  stored  ;  and 
the  little  girls  were  waiting  their  time  to  be 
put  snugly  in  between  some  of  the  older  peo- 
ple, when  Bessie  suddenly  bethought  herself 
of  the  marigolds,  which  had  not  been  attended 
to  that  morning. 

"  0  Maggie  !  "  she  said  :  "  we  forgot  to 
water  Dolly's  marigolds.  Let's  run  and  do  it 
before  we  go." 

Away  they  scampered  to  the  side  of  the 
house  where  they  had  stood  Dolly's  treasures, 
but  came  back  in  a  moment,  with  wondering 
faces,  crying  out, — 

"  Somebody  has  moved  our  marigolds. " 

"  Where  are  our  marigolds  ?  " 

"  Never   mind    the    marigolds   now,"    said 

papa,  catching  up  Bessie,  and  putting  her  into 

the  wagon,  where,  the  next  moment,  she  was 

seated  on  Colonel  Rush's  knee,  —  "  never  mind 
22 


338        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

the  marigolds  ;  they  are  safe,  and  will  keep 
until  you  come  back  again;"  and  then  he 
whisked  Maggie  into  the  wagon,  and  she  was 
nestled  into  a  seat  beside  Uncle  Ruthven,  with 
his  arm  about  her  to  keep  her  from  falling 
out. 

Away  they  went,  the  whole  party  as  merry 
as  crickets,  —  laughing,  singing,  and  joking,  as 
they  drove  down  the  mountain.  They  might 
make  as  much  noise  as  they  pleased,  on  this 
lonely  mountain  road;  there  was  no  one,  but 
the  squirrels  and  the  wood-pigeons  to  be  con- 
sulted, and  they  did  not  seem  to  object  to  the 
fun.  The  woods  were  lovely  to-day.  Crimson 
and  gold,  scarlet  and  purple,  were  gaining  fast 
upon  the  green  of  the  past  summer  ;  each  mo- 
ment, some  one  was  calling  to  the  others  to 
look  here,  and  look  there,  at  the  brilliant  leaves, 
so  wonderful  in  the  richness  and  variety  of 
their  gay  coloring. 

When  they  had  come  down  into  the  valley, 
where  farms  and  cottages  lay,  and  where  peo- 
ple were  coming  and  going,  papa  said  they  had 


Good-by  to  Chalecoo.  339 

better  make  less  noise,  or  these  good,  quiet 
folks  would  think  them  a  band  of  wild  Indians 
coming  down  from  the  mountains.  But  the 
boys  were  beside  themselves  with  fun  and 
frolic,  and  it  seemed  impossible  for  them  to  be 
quiet.  They  had  a  flag  with  them,  which  they 
waved  and  cheered  whenever  they  passed  a 
house  or  saw  laborers  at  work  in  the  fields ; 
and  the  people  seemed  to  like  it,  and  came 
running  to  see  the  fun,  and  waved  and  cheered 
in  return,  as  good-naturedly  as  if  they  thought 
it  was  all  done  for  their  pleasure. 

As  they  passed  Aunt  Patty's  cottage,  she 
drove  out  of  the  gate  in  her  low  pony  car- 
riage, with  Nonesuch  before  it,  on  their  way 
to  the  homestead.  The  old  lady  nodded  and 
smiled,  as  if  she  were  glad  to  see  them  so 
happy,  but  Nonesuch  seemed  not  only  sur- 
prised, but  displeased,  at  finding  himself  in 
such  jolly  company;  and,  after  some  shaking 
of  his  head  and  putting  back  of  his  ears,  stood 
stock  still  in  the  middle  of  the  road  ;  nor 
could  all  Aunt  Patty's  coaxing  or  scolding,  or 


34-0        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

even  some  gentle  touches  of  the  whip,  persuade 
him  to  go  on,  till  the  whole  party  were  out  of 
sight.  Aunt  Patty  and  Nonesuch  often  had 
such  differences  of  opinion,  and  I  am  sorry  to 
say  the  donkey  generally  had  the  better  of  the 
old  lady. 

What  a  delightful  bustle  there  was  when 
our  friends  arrived  at  the  homestead,  and  the 
whole  family  came  pouring  out  to  receive  them ! 
For  the  time,  Maggie  and  Bessie  forgot  the 
little  sore  spot  in  their  hearts  which  was  caused 
by  the  thought  that  they  had  no  share  in  that 
which  brought  them  all  together,  until  lisping 
little  Katy  Bradford,  who  was  very  fond  of  her 
young  cousins,  said, — 

"  Maggie  and  Bethie,  I'm  tho  thorry  you 
have  no  flowerth  for  the  thaw." 

"Yes,"  said  Bessie,  "it's  a  very  mournful 
thing  for  us;  but  we  try  not  to  think  too 
much  about  it." 

"  Papa  ith  going  to  give  very  nith  prithes," 
said  Katy,  taking  a  very  poor  way  to  console 
her  cousins  ;  but  she  meant  well.     "  We  think 


Good-by  to  Chalecoo.  341 

ho  ith  going  to  give  tbome  one  a  canary-bird. 
Thith  morning  there  hath  been  a  bird  thinging 
—  oh,  tho  thweetly  !  —  in  the  libr'y  where  papa 
hath  the  pritheth,  and  will  not  let  uth  go  in, 
and  Aleck  thaid  it  wath  a  canary." 

Maggie  gave  a  little  sigh. 

"  Bessie  and  I  want  a  canary  very  much," 
she  said.  "  There  is  one  in  the  nursery  at 
home  ;  but  we  want  one  for  our  own  room,  and 
we  are  going  to  ask  mamma  to  let  us  have  it 
next  Christmas." 

"  I'd  jutht  like  you  to  have  thith  one,  'cauthe 
you're  tho  good  and  I  love  you,"  said  Katy, 
and  she  put  up  her  lips,  for  a  kiss,  to  first  one 
little  cousin  and  then  the  other. 

And  now  Mr.  Alexander  Bradford  said  ho 
should  like  to  have  papa,  and  Uncle  Ruthvon 
and  the  Colonel  come  with  him,  and  act  as 
judges  on  the  fruit  and  flowers. 

While  the  gentlemen  were  gone,  making 
these  last  arrangements,  the  children  had  a 
good  play ;  and  in  about  an  hour's  time  they 
were  all  called  in  to  take  part  in   the  great 


342        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

event  of  the  day.  The  spot  chosen  for  this  was 
the  latticed  piazza  which  served  as  the  chil- 
dren's summer  play -room  ;  and  here  a  long  table 
was  set  out  with  the  fruit,  vegetables,  and  flow- 
ers, each  of  which  it  was  hoped  by  the  young 
owners  might  gain  a  prize. 

The  place  looked  very  pretty.  It  was  fes- 
tooned with  dahlias,  chrysanthemums,  and 
other  bright-colored  autumn  flowers  and  leaves ; 
and,  although  the  display  upon  the  table  might 
not  have  seemed  very  grand  to  less  interested 
eyes,  the  children  desired  nothing  better ;  and 
it  certainly  did  them  great  credit. 

"  Bessie,"  whispered  Maggie,  as  they  went 
in,  "  does  it  make  you  feel  a  little  as  if  you 
was  homesick  for  our  geranium  and  helio- 
trope ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Bessie,  in  the  same  tone ; 
"  it  makes  the  cry  come  in  my  throat,  Maggie  ; 
but  I  am  not  going  to  let  it  come  out,  and  I 
shall  try  to  find  enough  of  'joyment  in  the 
others'  'joyment." 

They  kept  very  close  together,  these   two 


Good-by  to  Chalecoo.  343 

generous  little  girls,  and  hand  in  hand  walked 
round  the  table  to  look  at  the  pretty  sight. 
Each  article  was  labelled  with  its  owner's 
name,  and  behind  such  as  took  a  prize  was  the 
reward  it  was  thought  to  have  merited.  Not 
a  child  but  had  some  one  pretty  or  useful  gift ; 
even  the  little  Persian,  who  had  not  been  very 
successful,  but  to  whom  Mr.  Alexander  Brad- 
ford had  given  a  humming-top  and  ball,  as  the 
reward  of  his  industry  and  perseverance. 

Fred  displayed  an  enormous  melon  which 
had  been  ripe  for  some  days,  and  was  now 
rather  too  mellow  and  soft,  and,  having  been 
jolted  somewhat  severely  on  its  ride  down  the 
mountain,  had  fallen  to  pieces,  presenting,  as 
joking  Fred  said,  "  a  very  melancholy  sight." 
But  Cousin  Alexander  had  seen  the  melon  in 
its  glory,  before  it  was  taken  from  the  vine ; 
and,  in  spite  of  its  present  distressed  appear- 
ance, Fred  found  a  handsome  six-bladed  knife 
placed  beside  the  fragments,  —  "A  blade  for 
each  piece,  and  the  handle  thrown  in,"  said 
pleased  Fred  ;  adding,  that  he  thought  Cousin 


344        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

Alexander  wanted  an  excuse  for  giving  pres- 
ents. 

The  little  girls  were  standing  lost  in  admi- 
ration of  a  miniature  set  of  croquet,  just  the 
thing  for  small  hands,  and  which  had  rewarded 
the  care  bestowed  by  Katy  upon  a  lovely  tea- 
rose,  when  Harry  called  suddenly  from  the 
other  side  of  the  room,  — 

"  Hallo  !  Midget  and  Queen  Bess,  how  came 
these  old  things  here  ?  "  Then  in  a  tone  of  still 
greater  astonishment,  "  Why,  I  declare !  Oh, 
what  jolly  good  fun !  Come  here,  pets,  and 
see  this ! " 

Maggie  and  Bessie  ran  round  to  the  other 
side ;  and  there,  to  their  great  surprise,  stood 
Dolly's  two  marigolds.  Forlorn  enough  they 
certainly  looked  among  the  flourishing  plants 
and  bright  blossoms  which  had  been  the  fruit 
of  their  cousins'  labors ;  even  more  forlorn 
than  they  had  done  when  Dolly  left  them  as 
her  dying  legacy  to  the  dear  little  ones  who 
had  been  her  friends. 

The  flower  which  had  been  in  blossom  when 


Good-by  to  Chalecoo.  345 

she  died,  now  hung  black  and  withered  on  its 
feeble  stem,  kept  there  only  by  the  fringed 
paper  which  she  had  put  about  it  with  such 
touching  care.  The  second  bud  had  half 
opened  into  another  scragly,  stunted  flower, 
about  which  not  even  the  most  loving  eyes 
could  see  the  slightest  beauty,  and,  in  spite  of 
the  care  which  Maggie  and  Bessie  had  given 
them,  the  leaves  of  both  plants  were  wilted  and 
drooping.  But  there  was  more  than  one  heart 
at  tli at  table  for  which  those  feeble,  sickly 
plants  had  a  value  far  beyond  that  of  the  rich- 
est and  rarest  exotic. 

Beside  the  marigolds  stood  a  bird-cage,  and 
in  it,  hopping  about,  and  with  his  little  head 
perking  from  side  to  side,  as  he  watched  the 
scene  so  curious  and  new  to  him,  was  a  beau- 
tiful canary-bird.  He  was  not  singing  now, 
for  lie  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  it  all,  and 
was  not  quite  sure  whether  he  were  pleased  or 
no ;  but,  as  the  children  stood  looking  from 
him  to  the  marigolds  in  blank  amazement,  he 
gave  a  little  inquiring  "  cheep,  cheep  !  "  as  a 
first  move  to  a  better  acquaintance. 


346        Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

"  Oh,  the  darling  birdie !  "  cried  Bessie ; 
"  who  is  he  for  ?  " 

But  Maggie  exclaimed  with  a  trembling 
Up,— 

"Fred,  Fred!  it  wasn't  fair.  You  ought 
not  to  make  fun  of  poor  Dolly's  marigolds,  and 
to  hurt  our  feelings  that  way." 

"  I  did  not  do  a  thing,"  said  Fred,  "  and 
knew  no  more  about  it  than  yourself." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Harry :  "  most  likely  it  was 
papa  or  some  grown-up  person  ;  and  certainly 
no  one  has  meant  to  make  fun  of  you.  Don't 
you  see  the  card  on  the  cage,  and  what  is  writ- 
ten on  it  ?  " 

Maggie  looked  at  the  card,  as  her  brother 
moved  the  cage  nearer  to  her. 

"  '  For  our  Maggie  and  Bessie —  the  dear '  — 
oh  !  what  is  it  Harry  ?  read  it  to  me  quick." 

Harry  read  it,  — 

"  For  our  Maggie  and  Bessie,  the  dear  little 
workers  in  the  garden  of  the  Lord,  who  tended 
the  Christian  plants  of  patience,  kindness,  and 
forbearance,  till  their  lovely  blossoms  overran 


Good-by  to  Chalecoo.  347 

the  evil  weeds  of  malice  and  ill-will,  and  sowed 
the  seeds  of  that  which  brought  forth  fruit 
for  the  glory  of  God." 

"  I  don't  understand  it,"  said  Maggie.  "  Does 
it  mean  the  canary  is  for  Bessie  and  me  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  Harry. 

"  But  I  am  sure  we  ought  not  to  have  any 
credit  about  the  marigolds,"  said  Maggie,  still 
wondering.  "  If  there  is  any,  it  is  Dolly's  or 
Lem's." 

"  And  Harry,"  said  Bessie,  "  the  marigolds 
are  pretty  ugly.  I  don't  much  think  we  ought 
to  have  a  prize,  even  if  we  had  grown  them  up." 

"Dolly  left  you  the  marigolds,"  said  Harry ; 
"  so,  if  they  win  a  prize  you  ought  surely  to 
have  it,  and  I  am  glad  of  it,  —  that  I  am.  But 
I  don't  quite  think  it  was  these  poor  little 
scrubs  that  had  that  honor." 

"  But,  0  Maggie  !  just  to  think  of  that  love- 
ly, darling,  little  birdie  being  for  us,"  said 
Bessie,  pleasure  beginning  to  have  its  way 
over  surprise ;  "  and  we  never  'spected  a 
thing  'cause  we  had  no  flowers." 


348        Bessie  among  trie  Mountains. 

"  Yes,"  said  Maggie,  now  in  great  delight  as 
she  began  to  understand  how  it  was,  "  and  wo 
would  rather  have  had  it  than  any  thing  else." 

Never  was  a  birdie  coaxed  with  more  pretty 
names  than  was  this  one  during  the  next  ten 
minutes  ;  and  he  seemed  to  like  them  well,  for, 
after  answering  with  one  or  two  more  half- 
timid  "  cheeps,"  he  broke  into  a  soft  trill,  which 
soon  swelled  into  a  clear,  sweet  song  of  joy. 

Maggie  and  Bessie  were  in  ecstasies,  and 
Cousin  Alexander  certainly  had  reason  to 
think  his  kindness  had  given  all  the  pleasure 
he  intended  it  should. 

This  was  the  last  day  they  were  to  spend  at 
the  homestead,  and  the  children  made  the 
most  of  it.  Every  nook  and  corner  was  visited, 
and  all  kinds  of  odd  traps  were  dragged  to  light, 
and  presented  by  the  young  cousins  to  be  kept 
in  memory  of  the  old  place,  "  family  relics,'' 
Maggie  called  them  ;  and  very  curious  "  family 
relics "  some  of  them  were.  Among  other 
tilings  were  two  or  three  peacock  feathers,  a 
turkey  wing,  some   pebbles   from   the  brook 


Good-by  to  Chalecoo.  349 

where  papa  used  to  sail  his  boats  when  he  was 
a  boy,  a  piece  of  rusty  tin  pipe,  which,  because 
it  looked  black  and  smoky,  and  came  from 
the  field  where  the  burnt  barn  had  stood,  they 
persuaded  themselves  must  be  a  part  of  the 
very  leader  down  which  papa  slid  when  he  ran 
for  the  ladder  to  save  his  little  brother,  —  all 
these,  and  other  treasures  of  like  value,  were 
carefully  collected  and  stowed  in  the  wagons, 
to  be  carried  to  the  Lake  House,  and  thence  to 
the  city. 

But  at  last  the  busy,  happy  day  came  to  an 
end,  and  farewell  had  to  be  said  to  the  dear 
old  homestead  and  the  kind  family  there. 

Birdie  did  not  like  his  ride  up  the  mountain 
at  all,  but  chirped  in  a  very  miserable,  beseech- 
ing manner  all  the  way ;  and,  when  he  was 
safely  at  the  Lake  House  and  hung  up  out 
of  the  reach  of  Mrs.  Porter's  old  pussy  cat, 
tucked  his  head  under  his  wing,  and  went  to 
sleep  at  once,  as  if  he  were  glad  to  forget  all 
his  troubles. 

But  he  was  bright  enough  the  next  morn- 


350       Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

ing ;  for  he  woke  the  little  girls  with  his  song 
some  time  before  the  hour  at  which  they  were 
accustomed  to  rise.  Bessie,  always  a  light 
sleeper,  was  the  first  to  be  roused  by  his  sweet 
notes,  that  soft,  half-doubtful  little  trill  with 
which  he  began ;  but,  as  it  rose  into  a  gush  of 
joyous  music,  Maggie,  too,  stirred,  and  opened 
her  eyes.  She  listened  a  moment,  then 
turned  towards  Bessie,  who  lay  with  her  eyes 
fixed  on  the  bird  with  a  dreamy,  thoughtful 
look. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  Bessie  ?  "  she 
asked,  softly. 

"  I  was  thinking,"  said  Bessie,  "  that  it 
seemed  as  if  our  Father  was  letting  the  jewel 
of  forgiveness  sparkle  a  little  for  us  here  be- 
fore we  carried  it  over  the  river  to  Him.,, 

"  Yes,"  said  Maggie,  "  I  was  thinking  some- 
thing like  that  last  night,  but  I  did  not  put  it 
in  such  nice  words;  and  I  am  just  going  to 
put  in  the  Complete  Family,  that  B.  Happy 
said  it.  And  perhaps,  Bessie,  if  we  had  not 
taken  up  the  jewel  of  prayer,  and  asked  our 


Good-by  to  Chalecoo.  351 

Father  for  help,  we  might  never  have  found 
the  other  jewels." 

"  Or,  if  He  had  not  helped  us  very  much,  we 
might  not  have  taken  them  up,  when  we  did 
find  them,"  said  Bessie.  "  It  was  pretty  hard 
work  to  take  up  that  first  one  of  giving  the 
banana  to  Dolly ;  and,  Maggie,  do  you  know  I 
did  such  a  very  naughty  thing  as  most  to  wish 
He  did  not  give  me  the  chance  I  had  asked 
for :  but,  after  that,  all  the  rest  were  very  easy 
to  take  up,  and  I  did  not  find  it  at  all  hard  to 
forgive  Dolly  every  thing  she  had  done." 

"  Yes,"  said  Maggie:  "  I  guess  that's  always 
the  way,  and  after  all,  I  did  not  have  to  forgive 
Lem  and  Dolly  near  so  many  times  as  '  sev- 
enty times  seven.'  Oh,  yes,  you  darling  birdie  ! 
do  you  want  to  say  you  know  all  about  it? 
Bessie,  let's  think  the  canary  is  a  kind  of  keep- 
sake from  Dolly,  'cause  you  know  it  seems  as 
if  it  came  by  her,  and  mamma  says  it  is  of  no 
use  to  take  the  marigolds  to  town,  for  they 
will  be  quite  dead  in  a  few  weeks." 

u  Yes,  so  we  will,  Maggie,  and  that's  a  very 


352        Bessie  among  the  Mountains. 

nice  idea  of  you ;  and  then  we  might  call  our 
birdie  '  Marigold,'  for  memory  of  the  poor 
little  plants  as  well  as  Dolly." 

"  Oh,  yes ! "  said  Maggie ;  "  that's  lovely,  so 
we  just  will." 

So  from  this  day  the  canary  was  called 
Marigold,  nor  was  it. long  before  he  knew  his 
name,  and  would  answer  with  a  chirp  when  it 
was  called. 

In  two  or  three  days  more,  they  said  good- 
by  to  Chalecoo  and  all  its  pleasures.  The 
parting  was  a  hard  one  on  all  sides,  especially 
for  Mr.  Porter's  family,  who  knew  how  much 
they  would  miss  the  sweet  childish  voices,  the 
merry  laughter,  and  patter  of  little  feet,  which 
had  made  the  old  house  so  gay  and  bright 
through  all  the  long  summer. 

As  for  poor  Lem,  he  was  in  despair.  He 
had  begged  hard  to  go  with  Mr.  Stanton,  prom- 
ising the  best  of  behavior  if  he  were  only  al- 
lowed to  do  so ;  but  the  gentleman  did  not 
think  the  city  was  the  best  place  for  a  boy  like 
Lem,  and  thought  it  wiser  to  leave  him  in  the 


Good-by  to  Chalecoo.  353 

care  of  Mr.  Porter,  who  promised  to  keep  him 
for  the  winter,  and  give  him  work  if  he  would 
try  to  do  well,  and  be  honest  and  industrious. 
In  the  spring,  if  Mr.  Porter  could  give  a  good 
account  of  him,  Mr.  Stanton  meant  to  send 
him  out  to  sea,  with  some  good,  careful  cap- 
tain who  would  try  to  do  well  for  the  boy. 
Lem  had  such  a  fancy  for  a  roving  life,  that 
this  was  thought  the  best  thing  for  him;  but 
just  now  even  this  promised  pleasure  was  lost 
sight  of  in  his  grief  at  the  loss  of  his  kind 
friend.  His  father  had  never  come  back ;  and, 
from  all  that  could  be  learned,  it  was  believed 
that  he  had  gone  to  a  far-away  country,  leaving 
his  poor  children  to  shift  for  themselves. 

All  agreed  that  it  was  better  so.  A  heav- 
enly Father  had  cared  for  these  poor  desolate 
ones,  and  sent  them  help  in  the  time  of  their 
greatest  need.  One  had  no  longer  need  of 
earthly  care,  but  was  safe  with  Jesus  in  that 
home  which  He  had  bought  for  her  with  His 
precious  blood ;  and  for  the  other,  there  was 
much  to  be  hoped.     A  strong  desire  to  please 

23 


354       Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

Mr.  Stanton,  and  a  fear  of  doing  what  would 
have  grieved  Dolly,  kept  him  from  much  that 
was  wrong ;  and  he  could  scarcely  be  known 
for  the  same  boy,  who  a  few  months  since  had 
been  a  terror  to  every  small  child  and  harm- 
less animal,  and  a  torment  to  every  farmer 
and  housekeeper  in  Chalecoo. 

"  Good-by  !  good-by  !  good-by  !  "  The  words, 
so  hard  to  say,  were  spoken ;  and  dear  old 
Mrs.  Porter  stood  upon  the  piazza  steps,  wip- 
ing her  eyes  with  her  apron,  as  she  watched 
the  wagons  going  slowly  past  the  lake,  and 
carrying  our  friends  down  the  mountain  for 
the  last  time. 

"  Well,  I  hope  we  may  see  them  all  back 
another  summer,"  she  said  to  Dolly  and  Fanny, 
who  stood  beside  her,  feeling  almost  as  mourn- 
ful ;  "  if  I'd  known  I'd  feel  so  bad  to  part  with 
them,  I  don't  know  as  I  could  have  made  up 
my  mind  to  take  them :  but  those  dear  little 
ones  have  just  taken  the  heart  right  out  of  me. 
Well,  God  bless  them,  wherever  they  may  go." 

"  As  He  does,"  said  Fanny,  "  for  surely  they 


Good-by  to  Chalecoo.  -    355 

have  brought  a  blessing  here  this  summer. 
Who  would  have  thought  such  little  things 
could  do  a  bit  of  good  to  those  two  ?  "  and 
she  looked  at  Lem,  who  lay  with  his  face 
buried  in  the  grass,  trying  to  hide  his  tears ; 
"  and  yet  see  what  they've  been  the  means  of 
bringing  to  them." 

"  Ay,  Fanny,"  said  her  mother,  "  little 
hands  may  do  God's  work,  if  they  but  take  it 
up  in  His  strength  and  with  His  help." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Porter,  when  he  had  taken 
the  homeward-bound  party  safely  to  the  place 
where  they  were  to  take  the  boat  down  the 
river,  "  I  reckon  one  of  the  best  jobs  I  ever 
did  was  to  take  you  up  Chalecoo  mountain 
for  the  first  time,  and  one  of  the  worst  to  bring 
you  down  for  the  last." 

"  But  you  can  find  consolement  to  think  we 
are  coming  back  some  other  time,"  said  Mag- 
gie ;  "  and  we  thank  you  very  much  for 
letting  us  have  a  nice  time  this  summer,  Mr. 
Porter." 

"  Yes,"  said  Bessie,  "  we  had  a  lovely,  happy 


356       Bessie  among  the  Mountains, 

time  among  the  mountains,  even  if  the  sea  was 
not  there." 

And  now  as  we  leave  our  Maggie  and  Bessie, 
are  there  not  some  little  friends  who  will  say 
that  they  have  spent  a  useful  as  well  as  a  happy 
summer  among  the  mountains  ? 


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SPURGEON'S   GEMS LOO 

From  an  Editorial  Note  to  Volume  Ten,  by  the  Rev.  John  Stan- 
ford Holme,  D.D. 
"  If  there  is  a  minister  of  the  gospel  in  the  world  who  is 
truly  cosmopolitan,  that  man  is  Charles  H.  Spurgeon.     Mr. 
Spurgeon  has  now  ministered  for  many  years  to  the  largest 

ii 


congregation  in  the  world.  To  see  him  and  to  hear  him  has 
become  a  matter  of  curiosity  to  all  who  visit  the  great  metrop- 
olis. But  it  is  not  on  these  accounts  chiefly  that  he  is  a  man 
of  general  interest  throughout  Christendom.  It  is  rather 
that  over  fifteen  hundred  of  the  sermons  of  this  one  man 
have  been  accurately  reported  and  printed.  Jt  is  that  the 
number  of  readers  of  these  sermons  has  continued  steadily 
to  increase  for  more  than  twenty  years,  until  now  they  are 
read  weekly  by  hundreds  of  thousands  wherever  the  English 
tongue  is  spoken.  It  is,  above  all,  that  these  sermons  have 
been  blessed  to  the  conversion  and  edification  of  multitudes 
in  all  lands. 

"  Many  of  the  causes  of  the  wonderful  popularity  of  this 
distinguished  preacher  are  not  difficult  to  discover.  In  fresh- 
ness and  vigor  of  thought,  in  simplicity  and  purity  of  lan- 
guage, in  grasp  of  gospel  truth,  and  in  tact  and  force  in  its 
presentation,  he  is  perhaps  without  a  peer  in  the  pulpit.  .  .  . 

"  It  is  not  his  manner  to  spin  his  web  out  of  himself.  The 
resources  from  which  he  draws  are  not  measured  by  the 
strength  and  the  store  of  his  own  faculties,  but  rather  by 
the  infinite  fulness  of  the  divine  word.  He  never  preaches 
from  a  topic.  He  always  has  a  text.  His  text  is  not  a  mere 
motto,  but  in  it  he  finds  his  sermon.  He  uses  his  text  with 
as  much  reverence  and  appreciation  as  if  those  few  words 
were  the  only  words  God  had  ever  spoken.  The  text  is  the 
germ  which  furnishes  the  life,  —  the  spirit  and  substance  of 
the  discourse.  Every  sermon  has  the  peculiar  flavor  and 
fragrance  and  color  of  the  divine  seed-truth  of  which  it  is  the 
growth. 

"  It  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  sermons  so  varied, 
fresh,  and  evangelical,  should  have  so  large  a  circulation. 
...  As  some  of  these  volumes  have  had  an  issue  of  one 
hundred  thousand  copies,  it  will  be  seen  that  the  circulation 
of  these  sermons  even  in  this  country  is  altogether  without 
precedent  ;  and,  as  the  verdict  of  the  Christian  public,  it 
fully  justifies  the  estimate  we  have  placed  upon  them." 

12 


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